Book II: The Awakening In The Spring
by The Imaginative Light
Summary: Second Book of the Heaven's Light Series. Months of recovery after the tedious battle to balance the kingdom, the changed hunchback who was always looked up to as a legend discovers secrets of the past. As a newly hired Minister of Justice enters the scene, the foster son of the late Claude Frollo finds out that there was more to his guardian than he was led to believe.
1. Prologue

**From here, I continue the story of Heaven's Light. The first submission to this has been replaced with this one Prologue to the second installment. There will be three total for this plot and I am very happy to keep working on this. I hope you all will enjoy this. **

* * *

The morning sun, with her sharpened warmth, found her way into the cavernous tower, illuminating the dusty, motionless instruments. The greatest of all, Big Marie caught the ray at her golden side and shot the light downward, deeper into the tower. Once the streak of sunlight shot down to the wood shafts, it caught onto a sneaking rat that instantly scuttled back into the darkness, crossing where a saddened soul rested.

She just lied there. Still with her eyes as soulless as a statue's before she heard the wood stair creek. In startle, she slowly looked over her shoulder and listened. There was no one.

Nothing.

The poor woman had propped herself up and gradually felt around for her guide. Fortunately, she found it as she got the strength to stand up.

It took quite a trial up those great steps, but she did it slow and safely. As she explored the bell shafts, Agatha turned her head and listened for she beheld the feeling that she was not alone. Shaking it off, she patted her hand upon the second wood step of the stair that led up to the roof of the tower. Neglecting her guide, she mustered her courage to brave the climb up.

A strong wind greeted her once she came to the top. With it, she could smell the fresh water of the Seine as she emerged from the arch. Without her guide stick to help her, she groped for the parapet and ran her hands along as she walked, unsteadily. The air was cold, due to it being dawn, but she didn't care at all. Taking in a swift breath of air, Agatha remained still, facing the sun. She felt its warmth and she despised the cursed fact that she wasn't able to see all this splendor for herself. She despised it when she was alone… She awaited for him through the night, but he never returned the eve before.

She was able to hear, above all else…now that she had scaled the grand cathedral. Which was something she was never able to do before. She was glad the Parisian guard had granted him and the children leniency…even to her since she used her father's name. They would deliver crop to Paris every so often when the farm was still lively.

It had been a truly rough few months, being among the grief and the persecution against the gypsies, due to all this unease for six years. All things seemed to have been stopped, even the city seemed frozen. The heir was found and she was returned to her roots…no longer a myth or a story… Indeed though, she did miss the girl. But he was hurt more than anyone.

It was almost to the point that even hearing her name would break his heart all over again. His love was so strong, even now. She hoped he was all right and she trusted his word that he would come home to her.

* * *

Paris slept soundly, as if for the first time during this one decade. It seemed so very strange to hear just nothing of the city, even the occasional bickering of the food vendors were never heard. Soldiers worked quite hard to be sure of the welfare of all during this aftermath… So many had fled during the raid. There were so many reparations needed for so many homes…and finances were struggling now. Many people were in need of shelter still. Our Lady, always a blessing, would shelter the great many…as needed until a roof was provided for them and food. Being alone, well… not entirely. He had Agatha by him now… but down below in the streets, he was helping some of the families by helping them find and set up in their homes… or the ones not so destroyed as some were. All this devastation made him so upset. The hunchback among his fellow man, showed his strength by uplifting a few beams that had fallen along the few narrow roads …

Phoebus Chateaupers, who had been released, and was now an outcast as them all, had decided the join Esmeralda and her brother Clopin, who were mercilessly denied entry back into the city. The orphans were provided for within the sanctity of Notre Dame…. A home for them was not given and there was no say that there was going to be one. That was one dilemma that may never had a solution to.

One child had gone on her own, feeling just as worried as the blind woman…who had never made her appearance. She was the one brave one who had mainly laid her life down for a dear friend…who never spoke much. Now it was as if she had never existed, she was whisked away so quickly. She had not known her long…but she did not deserve more scares that she was tortured with. Also, since she chose to be a part of it…she held a trust and a respect for the man who protected princess and her.

His name was of the strangest sort; Quasimodo.

He held the strangest form… a back so twisted, it made all cringe. But she never believed him ugly and no greater.

But no, he was nothing like that. She trusted him… and she knew he was doing his best for all of them. In his eyes and voice, he held all sincerity at its strongest. With calm and warmth.

As of this moment, as she explored, Judeth's dear friend and her fellow orphans were deep asleep still as the dawn had come forth within one of the cloisters, where it was just and warm for them.

Judeth dared not to sleep. Not anymore, seeing as their guardians were missing. Slow, on her bare feet, the cold tile sent chills through her as she trailed her hand along one of the mighty columns. She looked around it only to find the splendor before her. The beauty of the nave mesmerized her. But with this beauty…a voice began call to her.

Singing.

She knew that voice. A deep sadness ruled it. It hummed and even how soft it was, she could hear it as clearly as one of those great bells.

She decided to go and find it. She had to find him.

Unknown to them, something was coming. It had been a few weeks since they returned home. A trail of white horses were nearing the healing capital, a great many of men sent to mend.

The singing kept going and she explored as deep as she could…finding herself quite lost in a place so grand. The windows provided light, the sun rising slowly… Among the arches and the pews… the confessions and the cloisters, she managed to find yet another stair. It led the girl upward, toward the voice…she was trusting it.

Someone had spotted her and his shadow seemed to pose a threat. Someone of strength, of animal-like brutality. The shadow's back arched…but then a man stepped out of the room, his face littered with such concern to find her all alone and not warm and safe during such a cold morning. His aquamarine eyes seemed moist and his brow was knit down.

"Judeth…" said that voice that guided her and she turned around, nearly hiding behind a door.

Oh, she was so glad that it was him. She ran to him.

"I knew it was you, sir!"

He knelt down on one knee as he greeted her. Quasimodo nearly gasped when he felt just how cold her hands were.

"Oh~oh, child! Your hands…" he fretted as he held her small ones in both of his mighty ones. "…what are you… Why are you up here?" he asked, his voice nothing but worry.

"…I… I couldn't sleep, sir. The boys were… they were annoying…"

Though that was a lie. She was worried.

Quasimodo sighed, his gaze trailed down to the floor for a moment before he was to speak again.

"J-judeth… I told you I was coming. P-paris, she needed my help. I seek to see that… w-well… that you all are provided for."

"I know…" she said before she gave the trusted hunchback a hug. "I was … scared."

The grief was still fresh within him. Evrard was gone and Adalyn could not pull all this off with her own. He was all they had, really.

"I-I know…and it's…it's all right to be scared. I-it… it is and… and we're all here for you. We're here for you, dear." he softly spoke, as he kept her in his hug. "It will be all right."

He had to be strong for her. For all of them. It will be long until life was normal again. But they had to try.


	2. Black Iron

If things were all right, then what was reason for Paris's unlikely quiet? It had been a grand seven years of awful uncertainty and some felt that it was the calm before the storm, although an enemy had been defeated and gone. It was a normality for fear, for the people needed to be wary of certain things, whereas the gypsy population were once again not trusted by the law enforcement. The belief of witches roaming was quite high at the time. Gypsies were of no exception, spreading their potions of apparent _healing_, so called. The pirates had required new forms of defense, of what was coming close at hand on this one morn. The recovery of the bell ringer, at least, gave some peace of mind, having those bell towers empty for so long, with no soul to guide them.

The bells, dusty and cold, had rung early that day for only a minute to give reassurance and they held a hope, it seemed. That small time meant more than what the bell ringer thought. He was not the only one healing. There were many of the orphans who were scarred…and his dear sister, Adalyn. She was wounded greatly… having lost her mother first and then her brother. It was a family he was a part of, which was something he was lost to for all his first twenty years. His years were spent confined and he only had one man to look up to. He was to work his way to protect these innocent young people.

Life among the people and all of those returning was merely silent and sour. Although some were grateful for the hunchback's burly hand to help manage through roads and alleyways, most had gone unsaid and unrealized. To the right from the court of the grand church, where the street was narrower, many pieces of the storied inns and shops had fallen, blocking the path of the cobblestone, so it was highly difficult for carriers and carts to get through. No one was trapped gladly enough, but there were families that needed shelter because of all this damage. The roads needed to be cleared above everything else. Him just being a single man, his single hand was not enough. The stress was high for all men, as well as the guard.

The grand doors of the cathedral thus were opened, like the beckoning arms of a worried mother seeking to comfort her child. Within those doors, families were allowed to find shelter and recovery as the majority of the city was being mended, as slow as the process was. Here and there, from one wall to the other, people continued with their usual routine in order to keep gold and silver a fine priority. A few pubs and taverns were always in business, no matter how low and hidden they were; drunks were able to make way to them like worms through mud after the rain. As usual, it was gossiping and mere word spreading about the now passed struggle of the capital.

She was tempted to do the one thing that had always gotten her into trouble before her life changed. That was it. Her life had changed. She could not stoop to that low while he knew her. She confided in him as he did her and she was not going to stoop to lying again. The temptation was strong but their love was grandly stronger after their difficult journey with Rose. All through the days, it was work and even yet, nothing was done…there was so much damage. The blind remained close to the cathedral as she was too restless to stay still. Nonetheless, it was the returning Parisians who were in glee more than nature itself. It was just like in the day when the Festival of Fools was coming along, which used to be long awaited for a certain one, the people were ecstatic upon their own arrivals. The inns were bustling in business since most homes were proved to be dangerous and downright useless for living. Agatha Demers chose to go explore one of them as she was, to her own assumption, so useless amidst all this work that needed to be done. Quite so she was tempted to bask in a single sin she had once confessed to. She entered one of the inns, hearing the rowdy drinkers and the lute from the corner…and as a comfort as it used to be. Rather, it was making her sad.

"I should have known…" she said, with a roll of her glazed eyes. "…_you _would guilt me if I did…"

After that say, she slowly made her way in. She made her decision and made way to a single seat by the wall and sat down. She was told he was to come by later to meet her here. That he being Quasimodo.

She sighed as she rubbed the head of her guide, uneasily. His sister was on her mind, of how sorrowful the poor lamb had been during these recovering days, as was he. She wasn't much for emotion since she was used to being so stoic, and being surrounded by all this made her, in a sense, uncomfortable. Agatha gave her heart out to Quasimodo, but she would never swoon or break whenever she liked. That was Adalyn, who had a fine right. It was just that it all made her very uncomfortable and down. She had enough of that. The only one who had the key to her emotion was Quasimodo. Her respect and gratefulness to him was a rare treasure.

She never liked men. Her reasons though were all the more personal, but one reason was that she always thought them endlessly and hopelessly selfish. As a lady, she was always looked down upon, by both peasant and noble alike. Was she that unlikely? Besides, it was her father's fault that she was blind. She was trying to live with it. How she despised that man. Perhaps that was the reason…?

Indeed…

Maybe her drinking habit were from him as well. It was what he loved to do rather than be a father to her, but all he showed to her was shame.

Agatha knew why as well. Her mother was just as filthy, therefore she was. What did Quasi see in her that she didn't? Why was she questioning this? He cared, he listened and he was always there. She would never throw such a thing aside as trivial. Paris was in a state of recovery and she could hear celebration outside. He was a flower amidst weeds, that was for sure.

It was becoming late noon and less and less were the camps outside of those walls. As some were homeless for the now, there was no doubt celebration because of the fact that France was left with a beacon of hope. They still had their city and the Duke of Versailles was on his way with the new Minister of Justice to take the place of the previous. The Parisians were granted leniency as the gypsies…were not.

It was certain that they were not welcome into Paris at her weakest point. Yet the gypsies were allies to a few but not all. The only reason they loved Paris was the gold they would earn from performances and their medicine and fortune telling to the weak minded. Yes, it was some slight trickery in their ways and most loved to do it. The leniency they had before was gone for now…and in a sense, a great number wanted to assist their allies. Esmeralda was just as daring as her close brother, Clopin. She had a hate for the Parisian guard alone and she had ways to fool them. They, along with many of their returning brothers and sisters, were sneaking their good old way along the river which would flow through and blanket the cathedral with grace.

After all they had gone through with the bell ringer, (of whom Clopin had a great guilt over still because the noble young man had saved his life, purely, without a second thought.) leniency was no longer provided for them. For good reason. Although, the stakes were higher for the lack of a Minister and how weak Paris had become. It was, by robbing the gypsies of their choice, leveling the playing field, as it were. It wasn't that they liked Paris, but it meant a great deal to Quasimodo and his family, which included the rescued orphans. So Esmeralda, after much discussion, along with the rest of her people had decided to stay. They were granted their caravans at least and there was wood to purchase from a few woodworkers nearby, so things were not so annoying, according to Clopin. Hate went a long way, concerning of how things were run here. The gypsies knew that all too well, especially when Minister Claude Frollo was well and alive.

They all had undergone a rough time, losing good men to those brigands. Quasimodo having most of the hits, emotionally. Clopin once did not care less for the lad, basically because of his loyalty to the old bastard. That was the worry and Esmeralda still hassled him about it. She was dearly loyal and promising to the Hunchback, to the point that he was a mere brother to her. The promise about her coming child and he the one to see them first, was brought up then and again, as if she had to remind herself as well as everyone else. It was getting slightly bothersome, actually.

The Captain, or the _Golden Archer_, as he was well named for his stature he had once had, seemed to have been lowered to their point of living. Again. He was with them again to tend to his gypsy wife, which… fairly, was a grand offense if he remained a Captain of the King. As pretty as a gem she was, her stature was no greater than an old mule. Her history regarding Paris was sketchy and she wasn't keen to making a scene now that a babe was on the way. It was a good time to settle probably far off from Paris to prepare for a new addition to the tribe, as it were. Only time would tell here. As of now, they were to wait for the recovery of their friends. Adalyn Dubois and Quasimodo.

A single hawk was let off by his falconer and the graceful beast took her flight over the healing and celebrating city for a spell. The aching towers of the cathedral was below her and so was the Parisians below…. The air was fresh and so moist that the sky was brisk and bright. It made it so that the sun was at it's brightest as if making the sky a pure gold. The Capital was very beautiful on this new day. A day of hope, as some were saying.

A time of work had gone by and the known bell ringer along with many strong young men did most of it. It was until they had finished their work when some of the returning families talked and asked him of how he had ended the life of the one man who made their lives a trifle. He, being a legend even beyond France, wasn't keen to talking much on it because most of it was a personal affair.

He did not wish to enlighten on certain things, simply because it all broke his heart again. He lost and gained so much for a man and not many acknowledged that other than his _family_. That which consisted of a group of homeless children, a blind, a veteran, and two gypsies. Almost two, to say the least. Clopin preferred to remain distant, since his reputation was repulsive to society. Esmeralda was no different, which was overly saddening. As of this moment, she and the rest of her people were not granted leniency. Not yet, at least.

It was this time when he had come upon the Baker's. The bakery was littered with wasted bread, rotting with the fruit and there was much to clean up. Also, he still had the pony with him to help with a few things. It was official that the healed animal was named, by the bell ringer's grace. A name he himself had chosen a time ago. The Faithful One, or La Fidele he so deemed. As small as the pony was, he worked as much as the men did, pulling his own weight in wood and brick through the morning. Later when the darkness came, a fine meal was on his way. Many horses, mules and ponies were put to work…

All except one.

It was discovered when the blind woman was walking passed the Imperial Palace of Justice when a terrible cry reached her ears. It was within the private stables of the grand palace where the terrible cries came, of that of a horse. A mighty black Fresian stallion was restless, unkind and brutish towards his keepers. A beast of age yet great strength was not allowing the soldiers and keepers near. It was with one stab of his iron hoofs that sent them afar from him. With the fence dented and broken, it was a hazard for the beast could leap out at any time.

"Careful! He's kicking!" warned one man who held a chain to keep the beast still.

The stallion's eyes were as wild as a storm and he glared down to those surrounding in rage.

"Ah! Bloody bastard…" growled another who had another stab at his direction.

He pulled and he yanked and he bit, not giving up soon at all. He once belonged to the last Minister of Justice, who had died no more than two years ago. Lost to his rider and not liking the treatment and lack of security, he was angry. This chain hurt also. He huffed and delivered a sharp neigh as he reared back roughly. He galloped around as he pulled the chain and painfully, the soldier lost his grip on it!

"Shoot it! We need to shoot it… It's too dangerous now…" concluded another, but it was too late.

The stallion was free and he was aiming for the fence!

* * *

She resisted the temptations of the tavern and she felt somewhat proud of it. Quasimodo made her guilt even grander. Not in a bad way though because it was what cost her home and all. It turned her father into a monster, more like. She was lost in her thoughts before she felt the cobblestone seem to rumble and then came the sound of thunder. No, it wasn't thunder… but she was nearly kicked down by a force so grand that it felt like stone. Fortunately, she pinned against a wall and a mighty gust struck her, taking the breath out of her for a moment.

The thing that passed her was a mighty black stallion, which was thundering with untamed anger down the road. The people working, including women and servants alike, all had to dash aside in a panic to even try to avoid being claimed by such a force. It was when it reached near the church plaza where Quasimodo, Fidele and Adalyn were. Quasimodo carefully lifted a fallen door and set it down, but he was the first to see the form of rage charging towards them. His aquamarine eyes flashed in shock and recognition but more than anything, he pulled a shocked Adalyn towards the inside of the bakery. She could not fight back and Fidele panicked and ran to avoid getting shoved by the bigger stallion. A wave of pure black ambushed him, with wind and force and it sailed passed, hitting a dead end at a gate.

The black beast roared aloud and reared in rage. All Quasimodo and the towns folk could do was keep away and watch. Quasimodo was frozen but he helped his sister to her feet, gently.

The terrorizing stallion made a direct turn and seemed to stare them down from the gate. No one fully knew if this old horse was rabid. Adalyn looked at it in return trying to predict what it was going to do, but that was highly impossible. Quasimodo held her by her arms, protectively, feeling flighty, but why was he the sole focus for this wild thing? He was sure the stallion recognized him, as he recognized it. The stallion seemed to huff roughly and counted sharply on the road. If he didn't know any better, the beast was preparing to charge again.

"…back up! Back up!" he barked to the others around and he was heard as well as his bells were.

People fled and the beast was granted a road to sail through. He protected his sister during that, keeping her back with an arm. Both of them questioned what had happened, but that stallion had no mind to stop. He was seeking a way out and he was going to find it…

* * *

Quiet fell over the street again.

With a shaken hand, he took Adalyn's.

"…a-are you… all right?" he quietly asked, with a lump in his throat.

"…yes, I'm fine…" she answered.

Others gathered, all confused, but they had assumptions.

"…Just as loony as his rider was…" muttered a farmer with a deep unforgiving tone.

Hearing that, Quasi felt a sharp pain in his heart, but he didn't say anything. Adalyn noticed something was hurting him as Agatha was coming her way, shakily. Now he was trying to continue what he was doing.

"What was all that?" stammered Agatha's rough voice as she groped her way with her guide.

"Quasi…?" Adalyn asked, concerned.

"…a~a horse. It was a run away horse…" the healing bell ringer gave, rather bluntly.

"…yeah, a big one at that…" Agatha shook her head as people seemed to go about their business.

The gashes on his arm were stinging when he acted so rashly, the bandages irritating them and he had to pause to fix it.

"It's all right now… But a thing that wild, I don't think the guard can contain it."

"It probably broke out… Are you all right?" Agatha asked, hearing him sigh roughly.

"…been better. Always been better…" he said, with a hint of grim sarcasm.

"…now I've heard everything." Agatha was gaped for a moment.

"Oh please, let me!" Adalyn worried, assisting in wrapping his arm.

He sighed and tiredly rubbed his forehead with his free hand. Agatha sat beside him.

"Hey… calm down." she softened, stroking his hand.

"…y-yes… I'm~I'm sorry…" he sighed again, deeply.

Agatha sighed after him and bowed her head in thought.

"We have all the time in the world, so there's no need to be jittery. Well, you're always jittery, but that goes without saying…"

He chuckled silently at her remark and brushed his hand through his hair and scratched his neck. Adalyn was satisfied with her bandage work. Yet, in his mind, wildly, he knew that wild stallion. Too well actually. That stallion belonged to the man he once called father, and there was so much confusion and negativity in that alone. He hated to remember it now because he held so much anger and guilt at the same time…and he knew his loved ones were to ask soon. The pain was plain in his eyes. He needed a distraction and gladly, Fidele was coming back from his fray. Quasimodo looked at Adalyn and sighed again.

"Please tell us, brother…" she softly said, biting down on her light lip.

"You know we hate it when you're quiet…" Agatha sadly added, now serious.

"…not… no, not now. W-we… we have a lot to do before we return to the cathedral…" he quietly said and stood up to go outside again, this time to calm his pony.

That left the girls worried even more though. Agatha furrowed.


	3. A Family Together

It was then, that very evening, when it seemed safe enough. It was after hours of labor when the men were then allowed to go and tend to their families. Farmers, venders, sons, all able to haul and move, alike, all began to make their way home for the night.

Word of the stallion sprung forth like a spark of a flame, and the one man, all so knew, saw to avoid conversation about it. He had a distracted mind, knowing that he had mouths waiting to be fed. He had a few euros for this day, but it was all they had. He began his short walk after he placed Fidele into his stable for the night.

The roads were slightly of more use, as it was getting better by day, the more they worked. He being the very few to shove thick walls and doors, managed well with no serious injury. He felt less worried the moment he laid eyes on his abode; the one place he was always protected and thrived. It was where his passions grew, from the bells to the carving. Frollo's words still stung every so often, yet the man raised him, even though he was an abomination to society. Or so he thought. Frollo held swords for words, but he was taught so much by him. It was what made it all hurt all the more. How can a man of so much power and purpose suddenly turn and become untamed and irrational? As he was taught of the evils of the gypsies, he learned that they danced only to get their daily bread. They were granted leniency, of all things. If he was no good as they were, why didn't Frollo destroy him as he intended before, despite Pontius' intervention? Did the hunt for Esmeralda truly warrant Paris being burned? Now that he was out in the world, learning of her darkness and beauty, Quasimodo now believed gypsies to only be people, like the rest. Some become thieves because poverty is endless and some had formed a resistance from the assaults, since the French guard were fondly bullies if they feel for it. It all seemed to have worsened since… Paris still had no Minister. Yet word reassured that there was one to come, when he would ring for his arrival on the morning following.

Quasimodo locked his eyes on those strong towers so high above. Rescuing Rose and caring for her was still fresh and fond to him, as he stepped up on those moist stone steps before the great West portal. The hunchback gazed up to the protecting and warning statues. They seemed to sadly gaze down upon him, with a sort of grace and mercy. No longer did they hold severity and disappointment as he used to believe. This time, they looked proud and encouraging.

Feeling some warmth and reassurance in his sensitive heart, Quasimodo slowly and quietly entered the brilliant cathedral.

Someone young seemed to hide and watch from behind one of the closest columns as he entered and gently shut the heavy door. Just before he did though, he looked at the cathedral square, which was so empty and wide, yet the day of that Festival came to mind and the memory of the crowd watching him go in humiliation flashed brightly at him. The look of disappointment and anger on his Master's face never went away. That stallion….

Trying to shove those memories aside, Quasimodo softly shut the portal door with two strong hands, as he was lost in thought. His right arm began to itch and sting. He checked under his long sleeve. The bandages were still tight but they needed to be changed. Softly stroking his complaining wounds, he looked tiredly ahead to see that one of the orphans was watching him.

The little golden one, Lillian. She saw that he saw her and she smiled a little before running to greet him.

"W-welcome home, sir!" she said, her voice a little shaken from cold.

He smiled and kneeled down for her embrace.

"Oh, thank you, darling. Thank you…" he warmly replied before looking down at her. "…oh, you should be with your brothers a-and sisters."

"…I was exploring this place… I never been in a church so big before…" she expressed.

"Really?" his eyes brightened. "She is quite extraordinary, isn't she?"

"…she?"

"Yes… In fact, her name means Our Lady." he began as he warmly took Lillian by the hand.

With a few of those that attended the last evening Mass, as well to Pontius, their voices could be easily heard. The weak elder softly smiled as he slowly began to retire…. He returned about three days after they did with King Louis to judge the condemned Spaniard. As much as it was wished for a hanging, the man had died from poisoning before the sentence could be carried out, and so he was burned at the monastery. Paris felt a deep relief that day as families and farmers began to return, giving Paris her purpose once more. Pontius, after the rough journey, he began to feel something come over him, may it be age or something else, but he knew his time was short. Yet, he was happy to finally be the voice of God in Notre Dame, as she was home to all. He did not want to worry the bell ringer and his family. They had much to do and they held a future.

"… you-you know, Lillian, tomorrow I am to ring the bells for our new Minister's arrival." Quasimodo said in a brighter mood. "… I can take you all to see the bells."

"Really?" the girl grew excited as they entered the cloister of where the family was staying. "I never seen the bells!"

"We can see the bells tomorrow?" excitedly asked Abril and they all looked to them who returned.

Adalyn sighed and smiled at him as she was stirring the evening stew over the fire.

"Of course. I don't see why not." Quasimodo smiled to them all.

The room was covered in straw makeshifts, wool blankets and sheets. Someone came of the backdoor and listened, smiling to hear his voice after hours of waiting.

"Well, the bell ringer has finally returned?" she smirked.

He looked and saw Agatha leaning against the door frame and he came to give her a hug. Adalyn stood as the orphans got themselves ready for their beds as the meal was almost ready. She was last, but not least. He knew she was not fond of a sudden embrace, for her years spent in a shifty forest. Yet, it was she who came to him.

"Oh, Quasi… I'm glad you came. In time for supper."

"Yes, we're starved…" complained Bonny from the corner.

"All right, all right. Patience…" the hunchback chuckled and reminded with a risen brow, looking at him for a moment.

"Better feed these pups before they start running around again." Agatha smirked.

"All right, each of you, take a bowl. And one at a time." Adalyn ordered and they knew the rules with their guardians. A mark left by Evrard. Disobedience or bad behavior meant more work.

Speaking for themselves, now being under the care of the Hunchback. The Bell Ringer of Notre Dame. He was a caring guardian and yet when one broke a rule or was crude, he could be quite severe. Even with a voice so kind, one could tell if he was angry or disappointed. It was a mere look in his eyes, and how sharp his thick brow was knit. That always meant trouble. His _ugliness_ may have helped in that regard, but they never brought that term up, since they did love him and they did respect him greatly for what he did. It was not just the fact that he was their late caretaker's younger brother. He was a hero among them.

As soon as each young person had gotten a bowl of hot stew, the adults were then left to feed themselves. In the pot there was enough for two more small servings. Quasimodo served his sister and Agatha first before sitting with them before the warmth of the fire.

"…brother, what about you?"

"…please, eat. I am fine, really."

The only man among them not eating and he even worked harder than anyone. Healing still as well.

"You're impossible. Here, take mine."

He looked agape for a second before he shook his head.

"Agatha —"

She looked grouchy and she felt for his hand and placed the bowl onto his palm.

"Eat. Stubborn ox."

He was near laughing and he took it, because even for him, it was a trifle to argue with the blind. Addy chuckled too.

"…you… you think I am impossible? It is you, who is impossible." he commented, smiling as he stirred the cooling stew slightly.

She smirked, smartly. "… you all should know that by now."

The two fought back laughter before he took his first bite. Adalyn then began to mother by lifting his right sleeve to check his bandage. He looked down and watched as he slowly chewed. Agatha checked the pot with the spoon and decided to pour a little more water into it to add to the rabbit left over.

"Pff, Addy… there was enough for three in here. You need to get all the stuff that sticks to the bottom." she bossed.

"Ah, do pardon me, ma'am. Perhaps you should serve our suppers?" Addy sassed back.

Quasi smiled and shook his head, but he said nothing before he drank what was left in his bowl. As his bandage was carefully removed, he looked over to see that most of the orphans were already in their beds. It was now calm and quiet in Notre Dame. Oh what a well deserved peace they had right now. He winced suddenly and his sister looked worried for a second.

"Oh, sorry, brother…"

"It-it's all right." he warmly said, able to see the state his wounds were in.

He furrowed in focus as he looked for himself. The gashes seemed to be healing, and the scabs were firm, excepting one. Since they were so deep though, it was to be a while still until he would be free of the protecting bandages. These were permanent marks, that much he knew, and how they reminded him of that dreadful night. It was an open book to Adalyn as well, who pursed her lips as she worked. To her and him, it was all too vivid. Him having witnessed the _Burrower's_ final moments. Those last words were buried deep in his mind, almost tormenting him. Choosing to do it himself, Quasimodo then softly placed his hand over hers, signaling for her to stop. She looked up, a little confused, but then she let him to do the rest.

"If you are so sure…"

"You've done so much, Addy. I-it's fine…" he smiled at her as he proceeded to clean what was left before providing the new bandage.

The children were all fed and were now comfortably asleep around them. The warm cloister was quiet, except for the spark of the fire. Agatha came finally and seated herself beside the brave hunchback, simply giving him the last of what was left in the pot. He nearly laughed.

"Really?" he said, glancing at her although she was not one to make eye contact.

"It's best that you eat it, Quasimodo… to save up on your strength." Adalyn said.

"Also, it isn't much still, but…" the blind added.

She was silenced by a sweet gesture when Quasimodo so lovingly kissed her on the cheek. Adalyn tried to hold her hair back and slowly laid down on her own makeshift. That brought concern to the bell ringer's heart. He had an inkling that she hid much from him and he wondered why, since they both lost Evrard, very quickly during the battle outside of the Parisian wall. Even the blind woman, when she seemed to bite her lip in thought before deciding to leave it to him entirely. He was always there to confide in. He was trustworthy. He was there for her, for all of them.

So then, it was time to rest and the cathedral was well asleep as the children were. It felt so serene here and so quiet, it was as if all of their cares were washed away. No hectic fights, no weeping, no pain. There was just slumber. Judeth though, being the only one awake had heard all that was said. She was glad to hear such peace among the family. As completely odd they all were, they were a family now.


	4. Flying Again

Through out the chilling night, when hardly a soul was awake to realize, the lone stallion had galloped until he could gallop no more. The gates of his prison was far long behind him and his spirit was on the brink of resting. His rage had all exhausted him, since it had been fueling him for the longest time, it seemed. As if for the first time, this old stallion had fully come to terms that he was alone. A great horse, with no rider, with no friend. It was his truth that he was angry and betrayed that he was left to his own. He was loyal to just one individual, and one alone. Ever since his rider's demise, never did he allow any other man come near him and he willingly starved himself most of the time. He knew what he wanted and how he would get it was usually by his natural stubbornness and force. He knew his strength and he was able to go for long days and nights without eating. Except, he was starting to feel the consequences of his choice. His stomach wasn't feeling very good and he was surrounded by thick, moist grass, unlike the alfalfa and oats he was fed usually. The wet smell of it was intoxicating and he could not resist the urge to graze.

As the black beast grazed roughly, swallowing chunks of blades hard and quick to satisfy his hunger, a lone mutt was sniffing about the property as his owner slept inside the mill not too far off. He saw something tall, black and overbearing standing profoundly right beside his owner's parsley and cabbage patches and he trotted up to investigate.

The stallion at this point had not a care in the world as he ate and ate, until his eye and nose caught onto the crop next to him over a weak fence. He rose his head and looked over, smelling the lush food as this mutt started barking from the short distance. Used to normal mutts at Paris howling into the night, the black horse did not pay the nuisance much heed as he pushed open a portion of the fence with his strong head. The upset dog barked louder, yet he kept his distance from the mightier beast that stepped in with much authority alone. One strong stab from one of those hoofs can hurt, even kill an animal of his small size. He startled when the black one gave a deep, sharp huff of his nostrils and he scurried back a little as this huge guest explored the patch a little. He lowered his head to the parsley and started grazing again.

Amidst the dog's barking, it roused the local farmer who grouchily mumbled and tried to muffle the barks with his pillow, unbeknownst to him that his crop was being eaten.

Getting a little frustrated at this horse's arrogance and stubborn head, the mutt watched as cabbages were chewed and torn and parsley roots were torn up without mercy.

His stomach was feeling so much better now from the vegetables but his moment of appreciation was ruined by the dog. He started barking and dashing at his legs, but this attempt was futile. The stallion's ears flattened as he lifted his head and he glared down at the tiny beast with a cold eye down at his direction.

The barks annoyed one of the farmers, who tore out of his cot, grabbed a torch and sought out for the dog.

Of course for the once starving runaway stallion, he believed it was time to move along again and away from this loud thing. His grunts were going on deaf ears and he had decided to teach this beast a lesson. He would have, of course, if the torches ahead were not lit, which worried him and he trotted briskly towards the trees, shoving through the weak fence again.

All the while, as this stallion began tread through to the woods. A mess of leaves fell when one of the trees was shaken so by the powerful black body, yet it seemed like he was never there to begin with. There was only the apparent truth that good crop was completely ruined and taken. As one of the farmhands had come to go and look for the thief, there were two glints amidst the trees, aimed right at the man and his yapping dog. In a silent fright, the farmhand dropped his torch into the moist dirt and ran.

* * *

Morning was coming but the stars were still twinkling beautifully in the dark blue sky. This was the time when the entrusted bell ringer would rouse. The sun's warm ray was barely seen and was only a line of gold in the far far distance.

_A sharp burn seemed to go through him when something heavy had slammed onto his arm. He looked up, however. He was greeted with the snarling man bearing his sword above him and Esmeralda and was prone to strike as he rose his sword above his head. This deranged man cut down, rendering Quasimodo to cry out and jump. He swung and kicked off of the stone to get to the next gargoyle as the blade was brought down with each passing second. The gargoyle he grabbed onto cracked as the blade sliced at it. He stared up at the murderous, enraged man of Justice above them. The Hunchback's eyes widened as did Esmeralda's. They both looked up upon the Judge, whose once grey eyes were as black as night. That cape whipped around in the smoky wind as the last blow was given. When he expected pain and the flames …._

Quasimodo slowly opened his eyes as the dying embers of the cloister fire snapped softly. The first greeting his eyes was Agatha, along side the two little girls, Lillian and Judeth. The two boys, William and Bonny were both near the wall behind him all tangled amidst their covers. The young teenagers were laid around them and their guardians; Christopher, Anna Louise and Sarah Louise. Adeline was near to Quasimodo's straw makeshift pillow.

The plaguing dream left his heart very solemn and scared, deep down. Also, very worried and once more, his memories were becoming bothersome again. The grief was heavy, even now…and there was the one thing he thought he would never regret would haunt him. Even after serving his own country involuntarily and nearly losing lives of others, it kept following him. Even after he found his family and found solace with the gypsies as well as with most Parisians. The dream or nightmare rather seemed so vivid as he knew those feelings all too well. He had Esmeralda (bless her heart) holding tightly around his neck as he was trying to evade his truly insane mentor. The small scar on his left forearm actually stung a little…as if it truly happened. Yet there was no blood. The hurt inside was still there, from what he knew… the Judge was ultimately as sharp as a needle and was very collected, cold and well meaning, but nonetheless harsh. He grew up quite tightly, amidst the suggestions and orders he was given. To whom he looked up to as a father, he was expected to address him as a Master, as a servant would do. In a way, he still believed he was his servant and his son at the same time. Of course, he believed for a time that he had to pay for the favor given to him, of not being drowned for his deformity and ugliness. He was given a job, with payment of food, bed and education. He was taught how to read and write when most didn't. He had a job he so loved and still loved now. The Judge, his Master… was gentle and scornful at the same time, but all the more trustworthy for he always kept him safe in Notre Dame, away from the fright and cruelty of the world below. Yet, the newly found terrible truth that came that day before losing him…that Frollo killed the woman who wanted him, of all things. Then in turn, almost succeeded of killing him. If it wasn't for Pontius, he would have been killed.

Things had changed…. On the day of the Feast of Fools, it all changed. The man he looked up to… had turned into someone else entirely.

As his loved ones were sleeping still, he decided to slowly get into a sitting position. The stone floor hurt him through the night, leaving his shoulder sharp and painful and he did his best to stretch it. The man had given an unconscious groan when he stretched so, which then awoke his elder sister beside him.

"…oh Quasimodo…" softly rang her voice.

He gently turned his head to her to meet her eyes.

"…oh~ Addy. Please, please, do not get up. It is not yet light."

The young lady smiled as she slowly moved to sit on her mat. With a free hand, she swiped some thick hair from her face. Yet she was able to see something in her brother's eye as he began to stand up.

"What is the matter?" she had to ask as her smile faded a bit.

He pulled his gaze up to hers, thinking that she had caught onto his sadness. He shared a very kind smile.

"Oh, I am fine. R-really. I just had a worrisome dream, is all. T'is nothing." he said, patiently as he rolled his mat up.

Adalyn smiled at him and stood to begin to prepare for the day. The children for now still rested but Judeth roused slight but she was welcomed by a humble, strong hand stroking atop her head.

"…there, there, dear." Quasimodo spoke, hushed and she relaxed once more. "…I will return. You will hear the morning hello." he smiled down at her, feeling that he still had Rose here, although it hurt at the same time. He loved them all.

As soon as the child had closed her eyes, he soothed a finger across her cheek.

"We'll be listening to you, Quasimodo." Agatha said somewhat quietly as she stood with her guide.

He looked to her and she reached and took his hand. After letting her to kiss his cheek, he quietly proceeded to freshen up near the fireplace. For the first time after those few hectic weeks, he was well enough to finally begin ringing the bells, among of his many joys. Soon after as well, he was eager to show the family the very place he grew, inspired from and worked in. The incredible journey outside the cloister was a wonder to behold. As the nave towered and sheltered, it seemed to go on forever. The high arches beckoned to all who entered towards the altar, him being no exception. The very few in prayer at the pews, this time, did not scold the bell ringer as he came, peacefully. A few turned and a few remained in their prayer as the bell ringer seemed spellbound for a moment. His eyes remained upon the altar respectively, inwardly in some sort of council. Before him was the stair to the balcony, and to the bell towers. As he walked uniquely to the stairs, he was quietly observed by the others who now recognized him as no longer a monster, but someone trustworthy, admirable, even though he wore no armor. He only wore a face all would know. Since this wondrous place was his home and fortress, they said no word or complaint as he was to go on with the chore he was known by.

As the family was waking, he journeyed up and up. As he did, he held the feeling that he was being followed. A cold chill blew through the corridor and he took a moment to look, but it was only him. An inner feeling of dread touched his heart for a second, but he had to continue his way. He stepped outside to the overlook and there was his home tower, just across. The old cold cauldron sitting still in the corner and the entire stone space of still heavily blackened from the molten lead. A sharp sense of familiarity scared him and he held his arms close to himself as he beheld a deep sadness. _The molten lead_. The pillars he had once yanked down in passionate rage were still being rebuilt.

Quasimodo had to shut his eyes and had to pass on through. The very truth that they were all home and that Paris had always survived, began to bring back his young spirit to his heart once more. He amazingly broke into a run, despite he was healing and he did not care. He took on faster and faster, shifting his body forward until he made a direct jump. Despite how sharp and sore he felt, he began to climb, gripping the nearest rain spout on his way up. Leaping to the parapet, he then started to scale up the tower like a ladder. The higher he began to go, the higher his own emotions got.

As much as it was a danger, his spirit was so free the very day he began exploring his precious home as he had grown up. As his talents in wood carving and the strength and love for the bells, it was just the same for his dear refuge, Notre Dame. Giving her thanks by studying her so closely, by learning to scale all around her as much as he was able. The very first time he came upon the steeple was so thrilling and so frightening, that he could barely look down for himself. In this moment of time, he truly felt as though he had the real ability to fly.

It had been so long since he was able to do this. Unbeknownst to him though was the fact that he was being followed. By one of the little girls. She least expected to see such a sight. He was always such a calm, quiet sort with his voice so soft. She least expected to see this. The wind blew through her as she watched him, as someone had come to get the poor child out of the cold.

"Lillian!" Adalyn called out.

As she ran to her, she meant to speak to her again until she as well saw the action happening above them. Quasimodo was climbing the tower, quite unlike his skill of climbing the trees. This was something else entirely, by how limber he so seemed as he got onto the parapet.

In his mind, he was too hurt to do even more, Quasimodo had to limit himself. But it felt so fleeting to be here and be free to do it! With all his effort although, he was upon her crown. He got up and stood on his two feet as best he could upon the parapet. As he caught his breath, he was able to behold the cathedral's grand height once more.

"… Quasimodo…" Adalyn gaped, never seeing him like this before.

She then whispered down to Lillian before guiding her to the doorway to the inside of the tower. Still not realizing that he was being watched, Quasimodo stood boldly as he had his moistening eyes ahead towards the horizon. It was until then when a voice was carried by the wind. He turned to see his sister and the young Lillian coming up to the roof. The wind blew through them as he smiled at them. It almost took him by a surprise that he had witnesses, but perhaps it was meant to be?

The young man was standing before them upon the old stone as the wind blew so gently. Despite the peace upon his face, fresh tears were apparent as he stepped down to them. Adalyn was amazed by what she witnessed, of him be so quick and agile for a minute.

"It was … I-I …" he tried to speak before he was suddenly embraced by his sister.

"I-I've never seen you like that before, Quasimodo!" she said, very much stunned. "You foolish~ You could have fallen!"

He nervously laughed as he wiped a tear from his eye, just before he turned and looked over Paris. Oh how she was beautiful today.

"I… I couldn't help myself…" he sighed, with a sort of bliss.

Even when she came up and held his hands, warmly, Adalyn began to admire the wonderful view with him. Lillian was a little unsure, since it was all so high and brilliant. She had never been this high to the Heavens before. Adalyn swept his shoulder… Despite how injured he truly was still, it still had great strength. It eased her worry to an extent and how she remembered the bravery he proved, as did them all. He basically began to fly up the tower much to their bewilderment but it fulfilled the stories the people have spread. All in all, he was still injured and it frightened her at first, thinking he had fallen over.

"Don't you scare me like that!" she laughed, merely out of worry as he got down from the parapet.

"Oh! Oh, please, sister, I am sorry… I-I was on my way to ring Prime. You both had followed me, when I had thought you were still asleep…" he said, a little ashamed.

"Now I know what my little brother does behind people's backs now…" Addy laughed, happy that he got down. They were so high from her perspective.

"We saw you climbing!" Lillian cheered, hopping when she went to him. "You went so fast!"

"Did I?" he spoke, cheerfully to her with a warmth. "Quite remarkably after being away for so long…"

"Oh how you looked so happy…" Addy spoke, despite how worried she was. She had never seen him smile like that before.

"I am so sorry for frightening you~ … oh! What of the others? I must ring… After, could you bring them up?"

"Oh, of course I will!"

"It will be glorious!"


	5. Marie's Welcome

It was a rather rough few months after the cold and the terror. Having that near brush with death had certainly made them consider many things. Agatha used to love to be alone. She still did. It felt safer in a way, yet she despised it. Her life was spent mostly in the streets, begging for bits here and there. She did so, hanging onto her anger and hatred for the one man she relied on. Ever since, she remained with her own and never trusted another man again. There was only one. Only one whom she had known for only a short time and he meant the world to her. The entire time she was saved and had traveled with the very bell ringer of the Cathedral de Notre Dame. A body so strong like stone with a voice just as soothing as a gentle flowing brook. Just as inviting as a song bird's warble, she would listen to every word spoken. Out of all the rumors and stories she grew to hear of this soul. There were too many to count. She actually believed that he was a monster of sorts and this man was who they were speaking of? They simply had no idea. She fell off damned horses for this boy and….Well, it was in the past now. Even looking back made her feel slight twinges of pain.

In that regard, she thought herself more useless than ever before. This world did not want barren women, let alone drunk ones. She had no gift to bestow on him anymore… that one gift, stolen out of a violent hunger. Even with that cold truth, did he even once think of leaving…? No. Instead, he had taken her into those warm, gentle arms as if she was nothing but glass to him. He remained by her side ever since. He wept, and it was so painful to hear him weep, to feel those tears falling from those eyes of the Seine. That voice as soft as psalms, breaking. Breaking, sounding like a harsh scrape along a window pane… That one voice that soothed her pain away, breaking. The sound of it like such was so painful….

She was still in shock that he loved her so. She was nothing, even though he denied that.

As she lowered to the floor after sweeping the straw astray, Agatha wrung her hands as if trying to get them warm again. At least she strayed away from the drink. At her throat, she felt a scar left behind from the pirate's knife. The one thing that was left on her after that hellish night. As for the now, she never felt so safe in this mighty place and with the guidance of the one who dared not leave her. She was near him during the night and she was able to make out a painful sound. It was that of a low whimper, in his voice. She did not speak of it so not to trouble him or the others, but she had been hearing those sounds for a few weeks now. Agatha knew Quasimodo had a troubled mind to begin with. He worried more than others. Even worse now since Rose was taken away. This blind needed to speak out more but she was taught not to. _Society itself did not want you to, or else be cast out like a witch._

How glad was she though when that door opened again, this time, a cheered up Adalyn had entered the room. The very sound of it, it seemed that she was in a bit of a hurry.

"Well! It seems that someone's wide awake…" was the joke as she tried her best to stand back up.

"Oh, _haha_ to you, Lady Agatha." Addy smiled as she closed the door behind her.

"Wasn't Lily with you?" asked Christopher, one of the eldest of the orphans.

"Yes, indeed she was. But she chose to stay up there with him as he prepares the bells. He wishes for us to witness it, his first ringing after these harsh months—"

"Of course, it's a very curious thing. Basically because the new Minister's welcome is coming to call." Agatha brought up, surely by Quasimodo's new knowledge of it.

"…did he tell you?"

"Yes. Last night, before we slept."

"…did he tell you who it is?"

"Only one name. Pontius had told him yesterday of it. Armand, I believe."

Adalyn relieved Judeth from stressing over rolling up her own mat of straw and still, she listened. Agatha made her way over, tapping her guide gently along the stone floor.

"…well, we can only hope." Addy spoke, some melancholy taking her voice.

That was the thrill of the day for them, as it was for all of Paris. The last Minister was harsh and he was keen to keeping law as firm as Notre Dame's hope. Despite the anticipation and tense nervousness of a new lawgiver, Paris would be blessed to be able to hear the grace and power those bells were always given. Silence was too long for this place. Too long for him, for he yearned and yearned day after day to be granted this once more. As twisted as he felt emotionally, it was a marvelous way to keep his heart and mind away from those thoughts.

It eased his heart more than it did his mind, though. How these instruments brought him so much joy, yet within these very stone walls was the place he truly believed he had found his calling. Not only was it his hand in woodcarving. Not only was it his gift of providing song through the hours…. More so, this very place housed the heir of France with him wholly unknowing at first. He could not help it if he thought of her. It was completely natural for him since she was a part of his family. He well considered _Rose_ as family, hence why the others barely wished to talk about past events with him. Knowing that she lived and with the hope that she would remember brought him the mere need to bring songs. Quasimodo would have climbed by beam, but his arm still argued with him and so he unfortunately had to use the wood stair. He was above the first set of bells, nearside Big Marie. The graceful and the most powerful voice in Paris. Quasimodo rose his way up to her, just as he heard the dear voices of his family down below. He cast his eyes down and there they were. Even Agatha had chosen to come.

It was the smell of wood that brought back memories for her entirely. Agatha threw away her irritability for this moment as she kept up with the group as best she could. The spiraling stair leading high and long to the wide porch and overlook which was paved in construction and charred stone. It seemed work was being done but was now at a pause for quite some time. The work that needed to be done now was only across the way.

What awaited them all was another grand place, of wood and majestic stone. The morning wind tore through, as though viciously and it howled through the magnificent tower. The seemingly still instruments giving off a patient hum. Their gracious host was finally ready, as soon as he remembered his way with these grand bells. His heart was singing already, but then even more now that he was beginning to see them all come. They must not wait any longer.

Lillian saw them come up the wood ladder up and she gleefully leaped down from the empty table. Judeth gave a laugh and ran to her, happily. Adalyn, Agatha, both followed by the teenagers and the two lads, Bonny and William (Straight-shooter). Christopher, Abril, her brother Adrian, as well as the two cousins, Anne Marie and Jeane, all came up as the two youngest laughed and hugged one another. Hearing such spry laughter below him, Quasimodo smiled down at them.

"We've come, sire!" the young Christopher smiled.

"Upon your order!" William smiled as Bonny began to playfully wrestle with him.

"Never have I seen a place this big…" Abril cooed, amazed by the size of this one loft.

"He used to live here…?" Adrian asked.

"Don't mean that he does live here?" Bonny stated, quite smug.

"…since I was but a waif!" he had finally spoken to them from above, with a voice as joyful as a spring day. "Being given the responsibility of these voices, I n-never knew… just how happy I would be chosen to conduct them."

He made his journey down to them, as careful as could be for his healing arm. Agatha gave a rare smile at the mere sound of his voice and she was careful of hugging him.

"You didn't wreck the wraps again, did you?" she bothered.

"No, I haven't, my lady…" he said as he blushed slightly. He received a kiss to his cheek.

He tried his best to keep his mind away from the worry of that nightmare, keeping his smile genuine for them. Adalyn kept her own sorrow aside for this moment. It was purely of excitement and even yet, a gift of knowledge for them.

"You rang them all…?" asked Abril, amazed that her new protector had rung these far before he came to them in the woods.

"All this time…?"

"For 22 years, I have…" Quasimodo spoke as he began his ascent back up the ladder.

"That is amazing, sire…" Judeth smiled at him.

"We're going to see them in motion!" Bonny grew excited as their new caretaker took to the shafts again.

He could not wait any longer as he was careful of his ruined arm, he took a line from one of the hooks. He was beneath the greatest bell in the tower as those below had begun to get comfortable down in the loft below. The tower itself had seemed to have been unmanned for a while even when the bell ringer had returned, but not for his duty. The art table, or it was an art display, was stripped with nothing but a cloth covering the top, with bits of old wood shavings and saw dust beneath it. Some of the floor planks were ruined from some spare stone statue had seemed to have fallen loose by the ladder. Old burnt spots had littered the planks a little as if something charred had rolled along it as it was in flames. It seemed that there was much unsaid here to the orphans and these bells were close witnesses of whatever it was. The past filled this place with uncertainty and a sort of darkness. Yet at the same time, there was a brightness and a just peace that they could not explain. This was the home of their lost brother. The one Evrard kept secret, even from his own sister since that awful night. How gracious it was to know that he was always the one who rung these bells of old, the very bells they grew to know. The hope those bells instilled within them all each dawn and eve. To be able to come up here was something wonderful and exciting.

Agatha had come up here on many accounts, mainly due to worry when he was so near to getting ill from his injuries. Not long ago, in fact. She being blind, it was the very smells and the very sounds the loft had when she was up here all alone. Yet, she had the sense that she may have been watched, but she assumed that it was her paranoia. Those smells though were that of damp wood, bell polish and the muskiness of dust and rain. Sometimes it felt like it was hard to breathe. The sounds of this place was as though from another world, the echoes of the birds as they flew in and out. The laughter and the quarrels of the voices below in the town seemed as if their voices were right next to her outside the overlook. It could only be that her hearing had heightened, but it amazed her nonetheless. She would stay in the makeshift and basically rest there for an hour or two by just listening, soundly. Being in the placed he lived and worked, it only made the love she had for him blossom even more.

It was even better now that he was feeling healthy enough to start his work again. As she remained with Adalyn and the cared for orphans, they both had their attention above. Judeth and Lillian both sat themselves on the floor and watched. Young Christopher grew restless enough to want to climb but refrained out of the respect. That was when it began.

Quasimodo did a careful pull down on the thick line, still feeling an amount of pain in his arm. Even with that, his strength alone already made the golden body above him to sway. He bent further the next moment and the Marie's sway grew even grander. Once more when he bent, there came the anticipation. To the ones below, it was a powerful sound, like the roar of thunder when that mighty clapper smacked hard against the brim. The beams and the other hanging bells seemed to crack and hum in reply and encouragement. Christopher ducked down in surprise and bent low to the floor, covering his ears. Judeth and Lily both did the same, yet they laughed, thoroughly enjoying the very moment. Agatha was in shock herself. No wonder these could be heard across the land, even from her old farm in the outskirts. Adalyn had to keep her ears wholly covered, but her own eyes were as bright as stars as they were locked on her young brother above.

At this moment, Quasimodo had grown solely focused on bringing on the final note. With a final bend downward, there came the third vibration before the calm. He fought off some of the pain he was getting by just gripping the pull line. He winced, but he was at peace to say the least.

"Quasimodo…" Addy whispered as her face turned to worry.

He seemed to not worry at all and he had released the rope, leaving Big Marie to go along with her own. He eased away and proceeded to sit on the edge of the planks as he watched his great friend sing out one last time before she was silenced. Mesmerized by her sway and golden glint from the sun, Quasimodo caught on his breath before his sister's voice broke through his thoughts.

"How magnificent!"

"You are not hurt, are you, Sire?"

He was tempted to rub his arm but he stopped himself. He didn't answer, strangely.

"My head is spinning…" William laughed as he got up.

"Wh-what did you think of it?" Quasi asked as he slowly got up.

"No wonder people can hear it all the way out of town."

Agatha was blown away and she smiled as she picked up her guide.

"Yes, that's for sure. I remember the days when I used to listen to them all day long." she added, softer in her tone than usual.

Quasimodo seemed to tiredly look down with a light smile before he worked to get the muffler out of his ears before he began his way down. He was greeted by the two little girls who were giggling with glee. He welcomed them, lovingly with open arms.

"That was sheer brilliance of you, Quasimodo." Adalyn gave her brother a kiss on the cheek as soon as he rose.

"All but one. You can imagine the entire chorus? If only I was strong enough now to do that…."

"Only until you are healed, Quasimodo."

Even after this, they could tell of just how tired he was. He wasn't speaking that much and he had been looking haggard. Although, he was far worse than he was before. Agatha took his hand.

"That was brilliant, Quasimodo."

"You look tired, sire." spoke Abril.

"Are you sure you are all right?" asked Judeth.

Quasimodo could not help but feel a wave of guilt swim over him. Of course, he was still healing and his wounds caught up to him often. That wasn't what was bothering him though. There was that dream that seemed to catch him off guard when it was all just based on memory. He looked up at all of them, ending it at Adalyn.

"It has been a little while since I rang. Perhaps I am a little tired…."

Agatha pressed her lips, seriously. She knew this sort of attitude all too well. For the sake of the orphans, this was something to speak about later in privacy.

"Come, the new Minister is on his way… and we still- still have time for breakfast." he soon smiled, his voice softer.

"That is a peace of mind, isn't it?" Addy smiled as well, after picking up the same thing Agatha did.

It was strange though. Even when the boys, Bonny and William started wrestling one another, he would be set firm on them right from the get go. Instead, Quasimodo barely said a word. They went their way down, exploring the grand cathedral as they did. Not a soul knew of his nightmare which may have triggered something in him. It scared Addy and Agatha since he was the peace keeper usually. Something was among them unseen and it kept him on almost a comatose sort of way. Shut in. The events they had gone through before may have had a play in it, but they have been in recovery for two months. Yet perhaps, he still needed to heal, since pain could be reason. His attitude may be result of it and hopefully, just like his wounds, he would return to himself. The loss of Rose and Evrard, that may have been reason as well. That was to never be mentioned, among a few other things.

Notre Dame, their refuge and comfort, seemed to keep the worst of the world outside of it which was something to look forward to. The orphans were told to stay in the heart of the cloister they were given as the adults had a moment by themselves, to discuss something worrying for all of them. Quasimodo had entered last after he calmed the youngest of them all when they tried to convince him to play with them. He looked up, his glassy eyes widening the moment he saw the look on Agatha's face. He knew right then that he was going to get a good talking to.

"It's been… two months, Quasimodo." she began.

He sighed in distress as he went to the cot she was sitting on and he sat down beside her. Although she could not do the liberty of looking him in the eyes, she was able to tell if he was troubled. His shoulders, bulky and strong, were as hard as stone. His breath was rough and short. He wasn't speaking and that alone was a sure sign.

"Something's eating you yet." she spoke. "But up there, that bell sounded so radiant."

He finally smiled and looked down to the floor.

"Oh… That was… Big Marie. The greatest of them all. I missed her. I am glad you all got to see her."

Agatha softly smiled before leaning against him.

"I… u-um… I promised to make the girls little dolls." he brought up. "… for them to play with. Using Pontius' wood would prove disrespectful. Perhaps the blacksmith would allow me to work with him, so to earn some gold for them."

His greatest woe at the moment was to provide for the rescued orphans, knowing how complicated suspected people were in Paris since the battled against the Spaniards, but even before that. With their former caretaker gone, he was taking his place and now that they were home now, what about them? It all began with Rose when he hoped he would raise her somehow, but now he had seven orphan and the only shelter they had was the Church. He knew that it could not be this way forever, for their entire lives. They needed to live one day on their own. Agatha strongly took his hand.

"Yes, that does sound like a good way to go. We all need to get our place back in this town. One way or another."

"There is no where else for them to go. I-I am going to try my best, as…a-as Evrard would do." he nervously stated, but he felt ready to do his very best for these young souls.

"You did it for Rose first, we trust you always will do what you can for them."

Only in privacy and between them would Rose be ever brought up in conversation. His chest tightened at the mention of her name.

"…yes. A-and… I didn't wish to worry them but… Evrard's death a-and of what happened is still well with me. I am just sorry that I keep worrying you."

"You are as bad as me, I can't believe it. Yet, it's expected. You still need time. Never feel that you need to be sorry for grieving. That is just silly."

"I-I know. Oh…" he grew touched and slowly brought an arm over her. He softly kissed atop her head.

"Oh Quasi. We're all right. We're all right. One day at a time." she said, trying her best to comfort him. His protective arms always helped her feel secure.

"One day… at a time." he sadly said before sighing.

Laughter could be heard just outside and they both felt much less sad. He felt much better, although there was still more she and the others didn't know. He thought it not important. His heart then began to feel much lighter especially when Adalyn entered finally.

"Quasimodo. What you showed us all was so wonderful. They will be talking about it until the full moon!" she spoke and twirled once as she came to them.

Quasimodo was more than glad to embrace her. Even though he only rang Big Marie to greet the day to them all. If he was going to ring six of them, then serious distance away was called for.

"It was — it was only the beginning, Addy." he spoke brightly as if upon a sudden. "Just wait for the chorus. A grand one. I am so glad you all got to see a glimpse."

"I hope you didn't worsen your hurts, brother. It did look that it did a little." she said, growing concerned for him again.

Addy would coddle, and it seemed grief was apparent for her as well. He was able to see it clearly, even though she put a smile on for him and the orphans. He took her hand and smiled.

"I was careful. It did it hurt for a moment, but it didn't worsen."

Addy gently felt her hand over his bandage.

"I'm glad. Do forgive me though. I worry like a spring lamb."

"Oh, Addy, you're fine. It's been a very… very rough few months. So far Pontius had helped us to live here for a while. I think we're going to be fine."

Adalyn sat on the other side of him, so that he was in the middle now.

* * *

It was at the tong of Primewhen the gates into Paris were risen to greet the coming forms of white from right over the short moist hills. A line of white steeds tread long and strongly towards the capital, following and surrounding a strong noble carriage, pulled by two dark, tall steeds. The steeds expressed the colors of the nation as if a King was being adorned for his kingdom. It was a day of worry and anticipation for who was to come and take the place of the late Claude Frollo. The man was feared and then highly recommended as Paris was always a hard working place, hardly held back by ruthless criminals. At least not much, but when there was a crime committed, the convict would face the consequences. Even now that did not change, especially for the gypsy clans. Not one gypsy was allowed into the city, only the ones they had in their caravan were allowed entry back in. Everyone knew the face of Notre Dame's bell ringer at this point. Seeing him, hurt and unconscious in one of their caravans was seen as an offense. Despite receiving the gypsy's side of the story, the Parisian Lieutenant had no trust for them. The paranoia left by the scandal of Frollo as well as from the invasions of the Spaniard Brigands, it all left the city very tight and restrained. Even now that the _heir_ was found and safe, the law and precautions remained and grew ever severe; for the safety of the people and the Kingdom.

Life was not that different without a Minister, only that the nastiness of the streets had grown ever higher. Families had to stay in the capital, or else they would have no life or purpose, no income from their work and woes.

A Minister, newly elected, was an answered prayer. The streets grew festive and children grew happy. That single ring of the towers, which held a familiar spirit of which they all so longed to hear again, signaled the gates to open for this crucial arrival. As the lute was played at more than one place, Esmeralda…weak even now, still expecting, took a step out of one of her brother's caravans. She had to be careful though, but gladly Clopin made sure they were a good distance away, from the roads and even Paris herself, as painful as it was. It was a comfort to know that Quasimodo and the orphans were safe and hopefully, he was doing all right. She was unable to go and see him. Phoebus was well with her at least. His own record was not as black as he once thought for what he had done to help the _heir_. The former Captain and veteran was persevering especially now. He knew that was never going to be accepted again into the ranks and it was probably best to settle down now, after this tedious battle. His ward, Kristoff, was trained enough to become one of the new young guards of Paris, but that was the least of his worries for now.

He followed after his mistress and saw her watch on, forlorn towards the approaching knights. Esmeralda was terrified, so was Clopin, as to who this man was and how he was going to rule Paris, as Frollo had.

His name, as written on document, was Pierre Armand. The new Minister the rest of the Parisian council was awaiting outside of the looming Palace of Justice, seemingly across from the protective cathedral. The Magistrate, Gustave Honoré Delacroix, and the Lord Chancellor of France, Guillaume de Rochefort stood pridefully and dutifully beyond the heavy steps as the horses and their men took to the streets and bridges, making the People shrink as they passed with the dark carriage.

As cheers and gasps wore on through the air and crowds gathered in the streets, a beggar looked at the action in mere silence. A woman of sorts with silvery locks pouring out from beneath her cloak, sat as if lonesome within one of the cut off alleyways. Her cold, dimly tired olive eyes watched on the crowd ahead as some were beaten and yelled away from the horsemen needing to go on through. She seemed to have a pouch on her person and it was full of milky stones, as she saw as she quickly opened it and to put some sort of ring inside of it. With that, the pouch was hidden beneath it. Paris was heavily distracted much to her wanting. Slowly, crouched and weak as she appeared she emerged into the side of the street, merging into the hectic crowd.


	6. All Twisted Inside

She was trying to figure out a way for him to get out of that way. The way that kept him unlike his usual self. Agatha knew his secret of being a silent sufferer, which was not good. Not healthy at all, in fact. Once again, there was no doubt that those night terrors were after him again. Quasimodo was spirited, the very soul of this place. How was it that bell held so much hope and strength, as he was just so and yet be so low upon himself whilst keeping it all bottled up inside? Today was an important day for him, each and every one of them and all of Paris. There laid before them was a new door to a different path, so his uneasiness was fully understandable. Adalyn worried for him, as she realized how much like her he seemed. Evrard's abrupt departure was no doubt in league with this, despite it being three months now. Grief never really ended though, that much she knew. It would stick with one, and if let, it can bring damage if there was no proper closure. She knew he was doing his very best for them all, but she thought he was holding up too much guilt.

What he gave to them all though, had to be the most beautiful any of them heard in a long while. That bell had remained stone silent for several months, which was so long for the Parisians. Their hearts longed for that spirited song, when hope was so delicate and dying. For this family, it was slowly healing and these youths were growing accustomed to this new way of life, of what they had for now. Notre Dame bestowed upon them such a blessing, a roof for their heads and that feeling of safety. She had her voice back, slowly but surely.

"You shouldn't be lifting things, you know…?" she prodded when he moved an axe to one corner.

"Agatha…" he whined, mockingly. He smiled as he sorely rose to his feet. "Stop fussing. I'm fine."

"Yeah. Tell that to your sister when you slip over the parapet again."

"I don't think that's going to happen." he chuckled, knowing she was just playing around.

Even she could not help but smile when she heard his laughter and chose to sneak up behind him for a hug. The moment she had trapped him, he gave a touched laugh and held her overlapping hand. What he got was a kiss to his cheek. His eyes softened and watered at the action.

"Oh!" he smiled as the playful woman made to sit beside him, with his arm in her hold.

"I just came to be sure you were well, Quasimodo…" she spoke, softly to him.

"You're as bad as Judy." he joked, although he loved it when the little girl was so intrigued by his skills as bell ringer.

"It's a habit we all have, you mean so much."

"This isn't what I really intended though."

"You begged me to speak with you, now it's your turn, bell ringer."

As he was placing a bucket aside, his aquamarine eyes began to look really sad. Her question was truly prodding and it made his aching heart ache even more. It as if it was screaming to come pouring out. In some pain from his healing wounds, he looked tiredly down to the church square where a series of archery targets were being set up for the archery competition in the late afternoon. The morning air was crisp and the winds went through him to his bones. Agatha rested a cool hand to his cheek, this time there was love in her touch and he softly held it closer.

"I can never tell you that you're wrong, Agatha…because it's true, things… aren't as they were. And it still upsets me. When Rose came, it made things so different that I was forgetting. Him."

Right when that man entered his mind, it all began to unfold in his eyes and then his tears. When she felt his shoulder tense from the emotion.

"Him. I know of who you speak of." she softly whispered to him.

"Those two years were the most terrible and it's all coming back…" he choked on his words.

He then softly placed his good hand over his chest. "… it's making me feel all twisted inside…" he said, now looking at her.

She never loved her own father that much and she resented hers. He loved his, the man who raised him fully. He was still in that dark pit of grief and the worst of it was that he was trying to hide it from the family and his sister, who was too in grief.

"I could tell something was bugging you. When you go quiet, it tells me something's wrong. Everyone knows something's wrong."

He clenched his eyes shut as tears started to come out, the trauma of Evrard's last words and then his own foster father's… _I am going to do what I should have done 20 years ago!_ was so jarring and stabbing after all those years of mercy and teachings… 

_You were her last words…_  
_Father…_

Agatha felt him breaking at the seams and she embraced him even though he felt it was necessary to go it alone.

"Come here…" she sadly requested.

He let her and he had to weep into her shoulder. His sobs shook him to the core and she rocked as she tried to hold him as close as she could. It was all well with him, so much damage was showing right now and he was keeping it locked away. This was an awakening.

* * *

**This was hard to write, hence why it's so short compared to the last. Grief can go on for years... it's never easy and it's never safe to be alone in it. Even the strongest shatter...**


	7. Arrival of Armand

It was fully unknown to the children that their new foster parent was not well currently, but they continued to do their chores, obediently. It was all done in a act of excitement although, with all the happening just beyond the great doors of Notre Dame. The new Minister, justly chosen, had entered through the West gate, surrounded by the King's men on steeds of white. Roads had to be kept clear for the journey through to the Palace of Justice, which was quite a chore for the guard and they had to heavily distributed. Along the homes, taverns, shops and inns, many had to be shut off for a certain amount of time, seeing as to how grand Paris was and the route was not only a straight line. All this preparation for the arrival of the new Keeper of the Seals which meant a grand amount of precaution and protection for this one individual. Paris although, after such long years of unpleasant anxiety and unrest, this was a very celebrated day, even so that a small festival was underway before the church. Bonny and William really wanted to go to it, but they could tell there was some stress in the family even though no one was saying anything.

It was all unfolding before his eyes. Agatha was annoyed about listening to all the ruckus down below from where they were, so high in the lofty heights of their graceful current home. Quasimodo felt an amount of shame of expressing so much, but he was so incredibly grateful for the relief he felt. He now felt tired from it. Together, he and Agatha leaned against the wood rail, looking down at Paris. Only he could, she was listening. As he watched the festivities go underway, he softly wiped his moist cheek as he felt her hand rub gently along his back.

"Thank you, Agatha…. That really helped." he told her, soft and hoarse. He lightly gave a final sniffle, and the tear went away.

"Don't be like me. Bottle it up. It's all a lie." she spoke, matter-of-factly. "Please, don't be like me…"

Drawing in a shaky breath, he nodded before he rose his moist eyes up ahead, looking directly at the Palace of Justice. That was where Frollo would always be hour after hour seemingly, but no longer. That grand building remained, as a chilling reminder for him. At Agatha's words however, he brushed his hair back gently and glanced over at her.

"Please, don't speak like that. Not towards yourself." he begged, tiredly.

"I was in town yesterday. All the pubs were busy. I was sorely tempted, Quasimodo. But when I thought of you, I won over it."

"Agatha."

"It's true. I… my habit was trying to get me today. I didn't do it because… it's wrong. I know it's wrong. It turned my father into a monster and was making me the same. You love me. Me, of all wretches. I can't do that to you too."

His eyes looked pained at the thought that she almost reverted back to a nasty habit. Remembering how heartless she would get when intoxicated was heartbreaking. Pray tell, it was how they met. At the time, he didn't know what to think of her.

"That is… how…. important you are. To me, to all of us. You know? I mean, I didn't have to go with you."

Her voice broke away, almost saying something that indicated her self loathing, but she knew it would hurt his heart even further.

"…but I did. You saved my life that night."

She heard him give a deep, emotional sigh and inhaled deeply to get rid of those tears trying to return.

"Even though, if you had given into your temptation, I would never think any less of you." he spoke, humbly.

She ruffled up her already tangled hair as a man's voice boomed from far below with an announcement. It was when the crowd's were starting to get a little chaotic. The population of the city was a little weak since some home owners could not keep up with most taxes and had to relocate for the good of their families. Paris was in a crisis hence reason for all the excitement. A hand chosen by the King was all the more comforting, under the name of Pierre Armand with the Chancellor of France leading him to his new permanent residence within the Imperial Palace at the heart of the Seine River. During all this excitement, the two boys, William and Bonny went out into the square without word from their fosters. Curiosity won over the best of the two as they tore through the overbearing crowd. The fun had already started with the archery competition. William was startled when a few had shot their arrows, hitting their marks on the hay targets. In respect though, the boys dared not to stray too far from their new home. Adalyn was not happy with the fact that two had gone missing as Quasimodo was working. She made sure the girls remained inside. She herself felt anxious of leaving the only safe place in order to grab these disobedients back. Nonetheless, this was no Feast of the Fools, and guards were coming in packs it seemed like. Any sort of rule breaking was strictly prohibited and the boys were left with a good guess of what punishments would be. The two only wished to have adventurous look at the festivities, due to such painful boredom for days. They were to go back after one more round of shots. It would have been fully enjoyed if they didn't hear Addy's scream of their names. By the sound of that voice, they were in for it already. Bonny tried to escape to dodge through the crowd but his foot got caught on a bucket handle and tripped. William jumped over him and so gracefull ran right into someone. He ran into someone as scrawny as he was only with deep curly, creme coloured hair. Very short hair. All he had was empty hands, and old white long sleeved tunic and a worn vest of hide…. His leggings surely needed some tailor's touch. All the better, he had a pair of shoes to say the least.

"May you knock the wind out of me, friend!" this man gasped before he helped the panicked lad up to his feet.

"Sir, please! I didn't mean it, I swear!" William tried to spare himself a punishment. "I am very sorry!"

Bonny shakily stood up, fearing the worst.

The man's light blue eyes softened at the two with a sort of compassion.

"Oh lads, no fear, no fear. I can't provide a spanking with my own hand without a sprain." he lightly joked but didn't wait for the laugh. "But I dare say, boys, you may or may not be missing… may I guess?"

"We just wanted to see the competition…."

"Father would be a mite angry…." Bonny added.

"Oh come, no harm done then…" the kindly man was saying before a panicked ginger woman pressed through, looking rather frazzled.

The boys shrunk and the man rose his eyes to the poor woman. He kindly bowed to her.

"Greetings, my lady… no harm done…"

"I was worried for you… and he hadn't given you leave. More chores for both of you then, come on." she told the two and they obediently began to follow her. "I am very sorry, sir…" she then apologized to the man they bumped into.

"No harm, no harm! Oh, may I ask you a question?"

"Many apologies, I am very busy ~"

"Oh, it is only that I am trying to find my way to Notre Dame… since I have heard tell that the bell ringer has come home, alive."

That made her pause, but feeling uncomfortable, she kept going ushering the two found boys.

"No…? Ah ~ w-well, nevermind then. No harm!" he instantly felt awkward. Was that too pushy?

Adalyn didn't want to mention of the questioning stranger before the children but perhaps later when she would be alone with him. When she got them back inside the cloister. What the boys got was Quasimodo's greeting and for one thing… he was not having a fine day himself. They saw him enter the cloister with a very solemn look. A look that told them that… he was angry. With a gentle hand, he motioned them to come with him. Once they sat on the cot together, Quasimodo closed the door and set the candle down. He took a seat on the stool before them before he started carving something in his hand. The boys regretted sneaking out into the square today and even now they could hear the festivities going on.

"So…" came the bell ringer's deepened tone. "… Addy told me something today." he then looked to them, straightly, leaning foward slightly with a hand on his knee. "…would you care to eleborate?"

Quasimodo was a gentle soul, but very quiet when he was angry. His way of scolding was urging to confess their wrong and then it came to the lecture.

"…w-we wanted…"

"We wanted!" Bonny nervously spoke just as William did.

"w-w-we wanted to see the archery. Just~"

"Just for a moment… We weren't gonna…"

"We were gonna come back~"

Quasimodo knowingly nodded as he continued to carve.

"…right. And…? What did I say about the public…?" he asked as he glanced at them, expecting a certain answer.

"That they can't be trusted…"

"Yes…. For one thing, I will be blunt. There are slave traders coming from the docks daily and they hide really well. Secondly, there are certain gypsies who are murderous. Thirdly, children have been going missing. I have only heard of it, but we can never… never be too careful. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Me, Addy and Agatha are all looking out for you. And we've set certain rules and which ones did you two break today?"

"Going out without leave." William answered.

"Bonny?"

"A-and… disobeying you."

"Yes and what is the punishment?"

"Extra chores." Bonny said lastly.

Quasimodo never and would never strike any of them. Yet the only pain they would get was the splinters and sore backs from working for the day. It would make them stronger and never were there any taken meals though, especially when work was being done. He looked at them with warm sad eyes again.

"… we're a family. Keep that in mind, and always consider what I ask of you. I want you safe… until you're both ready. A family might take you in, or you might find a line of work you want to do. I am preparing you, not punishing you."

"Yes, sir Quasimodo."

He softly smiled and nodded. "V-very well. You are free to go and wash up. I will see you in the north tower in half an hour."

The boys nodded, humbly and got up to go and get ready for their chores. When they left, Quasimodo sighed before he looked at the carving. It was merely a shape but it was a replica of a rose, one he did before for the dear girl he gave everything up for. She was still dear to him and always will be. The reason why his life changed entirely. The inspiration for his way with the orphans…and some of it was learned from the only father he was ever blessed to have, no matter how stone cold he seemed at times. Notre Dame was such a marval, such a protected beauty yet she was so full of memories… of both alike with Heaven and Hell. He thought less of himself many times and the precious thing was that he had a family now. Things were not as they were before, far from it. Yet something seemed awry, which kept his heart worried. The candle was blown out upon a sudden…and he felt a cool chill down his back. It was such a queer feeling and it made his depression rise for some reason, so much so that he had to rise up and leave.

It was something he could not explain to the family, that for some reason his insecurities were to get the best of him, but he couldn't let it bother him. There was just too much to do. For one thing, he had a lesson to teach the two young boys who showed sheer boredom. From now on, he would be sure to keep them away from it. Adalyn took her young brother's hand as soon as he shut the door behind him. He took in a deep breath.

"Quasimodo, what is it? My, you are as cold as ice!"

"Addy…. I-i-it's been a rough morn." he spoke to her before turning his face away from her. "…please, please come with me."

"For c-certain…"

Unknown to the family, as the festivities commenced, the Archdeacon, Pontius was keeping to himself in the library. By the fire he sat, trying to conceal a certain cough. Something he was keeping secret from the bell ringer and his family. Agatha was a usual visitor to the man when she had deep questions to ask. He smiled when she entered the library and she softly shut the door behind her.

"Good day to you, my lady." he greeted her.

"Good day, Father. You well?"

"Still resting… Had a sleepless night, but well enough."

"I know you do not want Quasimodo to worry… perhaps he should know." she spoke as she took a seat, setting her guide aside.

"No. He understands that my time is soon. The medics said it is… consumption. There isn't much for pain but I held worse."

"We want the least for you. Quasimodo loves you."

"I know. I pray I am to depart in my sleep but sometimes we don't what we wish."

Agatha hung her head towards the warm fire….

"So, a tale… Our two youngest men went out today. Got themselves a day of work ahead of them, which is what Quasimodo is seeing over right now."

"Oh, children so spirited. But they will learn."

"…Quasimodo is stressed, very much so. It's not because of the children. He adores them so much…but he showed something to me this morning. I only want to know what it could be because he will not come completely clean."

Pontius hummed before coughing painfully for one moment.

"Quasimodo. Dear boy. He had a lot of issues as he grew from that waif to such a man we know today. Claude Frollo watched over him, cared for him, for all of his first 20 years. What happened?"

"He has a lot of pain, and he keeps wanting to hide it and I know it will only hurt more. He broke down before me."

"Oh…" Pontius turned grieved.

"He doesn't know I'm down here." Agatha chuckled nervously. "He is busy teaching the boys a lesson."

"There is much that went on, Agatha, so much so…. Frollo was his primary caretaker. I only came to comfort him. He always loved to talk to me and would only speak to me when Frollo was not present. Quasimodo was with himself for many days and nights. That was the least I can do. Quasimodo is a son to me as well, but Frollo had enough with me eventually and kept the doors locked. Quasimodo grew up with rules to follow and had high respect for his mentor, he loved the Minister. He really did. I fear that what had to take place in those towers that night truly broke the boy. He was only trying to do what was right. That is all I will say. None of it was Quasimodo's doing. Frollo was a ruined man… for many years."

Agatha sighed, feeling so useless and helpless against her love's pain and she wanted to help mend it somehow. He was in her life now, she had to do something.

"I see… The man was harsh yet Quasimodo loved him."

"Deeply." Pontius lowly added. "…in a way, I regret guilting Frollo when he was trying to drown him, yet… maybe I shouldn't regret it. Since he was living in this cathedral, never had we heard such beauty. He has you now…"

"A blind…"

"No. You are a strong woman and he needs someone just as strong as he is. I think you need a lesson to learn as well. You listen to him…"


	8. Blind Mercy

One of the lines had gotten a little loose through the night, due to the wind brushing through, perhaps. Though there was never any good of just guessing. Quasimodo took the liberty of climbing up a ways to tend to it or else it would snap off in mid chorus, which would prove quite dangerous. As he did so, he was keeping vigil over the two youths, who were working diligently on a couple of the lower bells below him. With this chore being a sort of a first for them, it took a few tricks to get used to. Getting to heart of the bell was something of an impossible task. Bonny had hit his head once or twice already and this was starting to take a toll on his attitude.

"This was all your fault, Shooter…"

"Mine? You were the one who wanted to go… I just tagged along with ye."

"Now, what is all this bickering about?" their caretaker's tone had softly entered in.

That scowl did not dare to aim at the bell ringer so Bonny just kept his eyes averted. Those solemn aquamarine eyes had brightened since the last hour, his pride for these two growing. Yet this attitude was something to take note of, no doubt. They knew to express honesty, always.

"Sorry, sir…"

Quasimodo's eyes truly softened, as he too took a rag doused.

"Angry."

"That I do understand…" he gently said, reaching high along the brass. "I-I brought you both up here… simply because, I too suffered from such thoughts, when I was young like you."

"…you?"

"Very much. I learned that a hard chore like this… it helped me to think over things."

"When you got in trouble, no doubt." William stated, sourly.

"U-uh, no… well, I did get in some trouble, once in a while."

"You, in trouble?" Bonny said in disbelief.

"Yes." Quasi said as his smirk rose up into a soft smile.

As shocking as it was, he could recall more than once that he would go through a punishment by doing work. During those times though, his heart, spirit and mind were in a bleak place. He remembered his mentor being so well meaning, yet reprimanding as well, if his behavior was not good enough or if he was not as grateful as he should have been. Also, he had just realized how often he had reminisced today. There were fine times as there were dark times. Especially because of the festivities outside, greeting the magistrates. Even he had solely avoided even looking down at it, it all still bothered him, emotionally. Hence why he had to have privacy earlier… but his wish to be strong for them was strong. Agatha saw most of his undoings during these harsh weeks. He had an inkling though that the children were starting to figure things out, besides breaking simple rules. Also, he had not spoken of his sleepless nights all that much, in fear of striking more worry into his family. Dear Rose still had his heart and in a way, he was so glad that she was somewhere away from anymore pain. That was his prayer lately… but that was not the current matter. The matter was that every time he would lay his head down, he would begin to feel this dreaded chill. The hairs on the back of his neck would rise as if some criminal had an eye on him. He encountered the same thing after he had his word with the two boys. How that one candle just died before his very eyes. He only wanted to know why and how his own nightly dreams were… oddly stressful. It had been an awful year, so perhaps that was to blame, but that feeling…. That feeling of eyes glaring through the dark, it was all too familiar. Frightfully familiar. One man came into mind.

"… yes." he began once more.

The youths had no clue of what was going through their caretaker's mind.

"Many times, I might add."

"Really, sir?"

"Oh~ there was this one time… when I got myself stuck up in the beams." Quasimodo began to smile. "Of this very bell tower. I was around my eighth year, on a day in the mid week. My master came and found me dangling. Oh, how he was livid that day. So livid." he smiled further and started to laugh as he told the story.

"Oh! What did you do?"

"What did he do?"

He glanced over at them as he knelt down to rinse his rag into the water bucket. Even talking about his former mentor was a difficult task. At those two inquiries, his heart sank and his stomach churned when he used to earn slaps across his face. Always, he feared a strike all through his years as he tried to be obedient to the man whom he owed his life to. When someone would reach at him, he would flinch and he still felt that way today. The pain he endured while getting Rose back to her true home, as much as it was worth it, it roughened him up. He would not be in a good way if it were not for those around him.

"That is the horrible thing." Quasimodo then saddened, not hiding anything. Not even that single tear that he felt. "…my master used to strike me, not too often… but he would scare me. He said he intended for good… but he lied to me."

To them, this was the first time Quasimodo had ever dared to mention of the man. They stood in shock. They could see the bell ringer's great shoulders shake slightly and tense up, but Quasimodo shook his head. To the lads, Quasimodo was such a gentle soul and it was a little shocking to have been told that. Importantly, it was because he did not wish to ever worry them ever since they all came to Paris, broken and healing from the horrors of a battle.

"…i-it is my wish that… that you… none of you… shall see such punishments. Fear. It only imprisons you. I can never do that. Ever." Quasimodo explained deeply from his heart. "Work however… this is every day life. It teaches you rather than punishing."

"I-I understand, father…" William grew even more humble.

To see all this love on his sleeves, they could no longer complain really.

"We're sorry…"

"I understand. I was very much like you once…" Quasimodo was bluntly honest as he took a knowing glance at them.

The Feast of Fools of that one changing year, it would never be forgotten. It was the most horrific to find a side of his only father to be so… crude. Agatha's interfering before truly helped him enough to be this open, as much as he disliked it. Even the love of a child would show him so many things that he was blind to for most of his young years. Those years when he was nothing but a monster to this dark city. His spirit was so restless, the older he got. It began when he was already anointed as bell ringer, by Frollo's own grace, of course. As much as he loved them, and he loved them all, the bell ringer had this frightening foreboding feeling. Lo, it was not among these stone monsters that grimaced and snarled at every side one would view them.

The day was going on busy, when Agatha was going on to the well in order to get water for the noon. She dreaded going out, but someone had to do it. The sound of cheers and bells, barrels rolling and thrashing as drunken idiots drowned themselves in spirits. At this point, it made her own stomach churned at the thought that she was almost just like them. Due to that it was probably why she was a barren woman. More than anything, she had things that she felt that she didn't deserve and she still bared with the guilt. Quasimodo was in greater need and he had to be surrounded by good people, especially now. It was a hard life, but those children did a great deal for him, even though they were a little trying at times. She was amazed those two boys were tempted enough to even try and go out into the unpredictable festivities, which was an open opportunity for the reckless and perverted. In this case, she was glad to be blind because by the sound of it the debauchery was very clear to her ear. She was independant. She demanded to be independant and there were those, even gypsies, who knew not to make her irritated. Of course, there were times when one would not get what they desired when someone made it sure that she would drop her bucket.

It was some fool who enjoyed to laugh at this misfortune, but what the fool got was a good whack with a stick, right across the face.

"Mess with me, you'll get a well deserved black eye. That will be the prize you get! Ass!" cursed Agatha as this bully scrambled away to recover. "Enjoy yourself!" was the last sarcastic comment as she felt for the bucket handle.

As she was groping, someone else took that bucket just before she grabbed it.

"Give. It." she soured through grit teeth.

"N-no… no harm done. Please, allow me." came a new voice, light and kindly.

Agatha had a pride, that she denied help unless it was from the Hunchback. This person saw her ailment clearly and touched the top of her hand in hopes that she would take it. All he got from that was having his hand slapped away. Quite quickly, she got up with her guide's help and swung her hair out of her face. She bit her tongue in irritation before trying to sound patient.

"Can I have my bucket, please?"

"Sorry, ma'am…" that light voice became sorry and she found the handle in her palm again.

She brushed passed him, aiming for the well. "At least there is some decency around here…"

"I shall state the same… It has been a risk in these streets for the past hour or so."

"Even a blind such as I knows the bloody obvious… Thank you, for the return of my bucket."

The matter of strangers however hardly worried her because she was able to prove a point or two, especially on such a day like this… to avoid being the brunt of someone's sick game. The newly chosen magistrate was reason for this. Was not he supposed to oversee this idiotic mess? For one thing, this city was still in shambles due to all the damage caused by those raids. By the leave of the Captain of the Guard for the present, lawkeeping was a hard thing to manage for the past few weeks. Life in Notre Dame was the safest to be, since there was fear and trust in the church. Break a single law and one will find themselves at the mercy of the Palace of Justice and who knew what this new minister was to bring to Paris. The entire battle in the outskirts left this poor capital rather naked for too long and it needed true mending, made bluntly obvious by its people. The gypsies were banned and reprimanded, only the bell ringer and the orphans were granted such kindness. Esmeralda was expecting, the last thing she could remember and she could have been given some of this kindness by the guard, but alas. Agatha remained cold towards many Parisians, even to this one who assisted her because trust was a hard thing to come by nowadays.

"If it will not burden you…" that same voice bugged her again. "I have come upon this city during such a terrible time."

At this point, Agatha was in no mood.

"I was once a student, studying in that brilliant cathedral. I do regret frightening that poor young woman…"

"Oh? So you are to blame for her anxiety. Good."

"You see… I am such a fool… but I am a past student of the one known as Claude Frollo."

A deep rage built up within Agatha as she paused upon hearing that name. Barely turning towards the stranger, she merely whispered.

"We do not say that name around here."

"I do know that well, my lady."

Knowing how much pain it gave to her dear friend, this was not fine news to come by. This stranger was being pushy as well.

"…fine then. What do you want?"

"I fear that I am only intruding. Pardon me, dear lady…" the lanky stranger got the feeling that he had just done a world of wrong. "…none of this was intended."

"If you were in any way affiliated with us, you'd know why. Alas, you are not. Now leave me be. I will not tell you again."

"I am afraid I cannot." he spoke again, standing his ground. "I fear my story is more drama laced than you may think."

It seemed to be the opportune moment when the truth came soon after that remark. Soldiers were coming near, towards the festivities, but by the sounds of it, they were in high search for someone. She heard orders being barked and weapons being drawn.

"You… They're looking for you."

"Please, I cannot be found!" this poor man began to beg. "I beg to take sanctuary within those walls! I beg of ye! I've been hiding among the crowds but I cannot be seen by those men! Not even for a blink of an eye! Please, my lady!"

What could he be then? A thief, an accomplice… a rapist?

"I will do all within my power to make it up to you. That is a promise. Pierre never breaks a promise."

She kept listening for anyone else approaching, especially for the sound of armor. With that, she threw her own cloak to this fool and began to yank his torn sleeve.

"Shut up." she coldly ended the conversation and began to lead him, with an empty bucket.

This man was in desperation, so much so that he chose to rely on a blind woman. Though, much to her dismay on this late date, Notre Dame was always open to all. Their gypsy allies were even given it, but for them, they face the outer wall for now. She could not deny that law in order satisfy her own selfishness by just neglecting him. She showed him the Northern entry and he, disguised and huddled over in her cloak, scampered inside. He nearly slipped over the cool tile as she entered in lastly, with the great door shutting with a loud echo. In her head, the last time she vouched for someone, that someone being Rose, she only got trouble. She wouldn't have worried so much if she had not known Quasimodo at the time. Or the girl's true identity, for that matter.

The commotion though was easily heard, firstly by Adalyn, who was looking after the daughters. A slam that loud could only be by Agatha herself which truly meant that there was a problem.

Agatha took her cloak back.

"There…"

"I cannot thank you enough, my lady! Thank you…"

"So, you sinned enough to have them chase you around."

"…a-ah… I prefer the confessionary, but I appreciate your interest in my plight."

"Be our guest then… as for me, I have clothes to wash. For that to happen, I must begin my second voyage to the well."

"What is going on?" came Adalyn's voice from the stairwell. When she saw this man, who was flustered and was fiddling when he saw her, she stopped. She furrowed. "A-ah…"

"Good afternoon. D-don't you mind me."

The insecure ginger made sure her voice was towards Agatha.

"Why is he here?"

"He won't talk to me. He prefers to confess later. Some fool claiming Sanctuary, for now."

"Well then…"

Addy gave the suspicious man a rather shrewd glare before retiring again with a mind to let her brother know of this.


	9. Shattered Promises

During this supposed peace within Paris, with the festivities and all going underway, the groups of gypsies had no other choice but carry on their merry way. If it was anymore merry than a drunken tavern as of late. Clopin was not very kindly to strangers, more so than before… preferring instant execution rather than mere taunting. It was especially so when Esmeralda was showing frightening signs of ailment, as she was expecting any day now. The soldier did what he could for her, but being a mere wall guard, he could only see her during the night hours. Times were getting tougher, especially with the fact that he was affiliated with the distrustful gypsies. Although, he was one of them who knew the true nature Quasimodo had spoken of. The fact that Clopin fought by his side on that awful night inspired the former soldier to remain loyal, despite prejudice. Mounted on his aging horse, he finally made it out into the outskirts where the gypsies were banished to. The way to the Court of Miracles happened to be barred off. It seemed unfair that the bearing woman could not find refuge with Quasimodo's family. The guard were merciless, after all. What was there to do? Esmeralda was showing signs of weakness for a few days, seeming as though she was falling ill. Keeping track on how further along she was, it frightened most of the tribe that she could be one of those who could lose her life during childbirth. If that was the least of their problems, spending the night in those small caravans was nothing compared to anything else. Word of this had to be passed on to Esmeralda's most trusted people who lived inside those protected walls.

This news was hard to pass though. Especially because Esmeralda was trying to rest as she suffered through early contractions. The woman tried to control her breathing as she felt another wave. Even lying down was of no help. She had a feeling though that this should be nothing of an issue compared to the other ones they had. As to how heartless the soldiers of Paris truly were, it only fueled her anger. The treatment they had only made her situation all the worse. The former soldier had finally come and poked his head in before he entered.

"Hey." he spoke, managing a smile.

With him, he brought some soup in for her. Esmeralda winced once more with a small smile.

"Oh my Lord, don't look at me…" she croaked as she pulled a pillow up and over her face.

"Someone has to feed you." he gave her a smirk as he sat down beside her.

Phoebus differed greatly without his golden attire, as he was so used to it. Being as low as to be shunned just like most gypsies are, he actually had no mind of going back. With the wars well with him, this was a just reward for all of his years of service. Especially now when the love of his life was ailing. He simply had no care anymore. Seeing the dear bell ringer reduced to a curl when he finally found them helped him to see the more important things life offered. He had an inkling that he was never to complain or envy much. As a favor to his dear friend and to his mistress, he was going to try. Although her pregnancy was a daily worry and seeing her like this was a stab to the heart, he had no say in the matter when she was banned just like the rest of her people. Without a minister yet and the Parisians were still paranoid, nasty and careless. Enraged yet passionate, he tended to her as much as he could. As her lover, protector when Quasimodo could not. He was told of her wish that Quasimodo's eyes were to be the first the child will see. It was a promise she gave him during the early times of that awful journey. Even though it seemed too impossible right now when the child could come at any time, Phoebus understood why she made that promise. Although it hurt a little.

"Thank you, love…" her voice softened at him. She sighed and laid her head back in pain.

"Do you suppose, Esmeralda, that - " he became alert right then and there.

"I don't know, Phoebus… but I am really frightened."

"I'm staying with you, every moment, every hour. All right?" Phoebus strongly took her chilled hand. "We can do this."

"I should not have made that promise to him. God, I pray he doesn't remember it." she strained, squeezing his hand.

"Dear, you can't think about that right now. Just rest, as much as you can."

The brave woman was deep in a panic but she took her lover's words to heart.

"Quasimodo would understand. Why do you not think he would?"

"… I promised him during one of the worst times of his life. It was what I could give him to keep his head up. I truly meant it too. After all he did for us… and he expected nothing in return. I came to realize when I made that promise, th-that… I truly hurt him once."

"What are you talking about…?"

"He saw us kiss, Phoebus. He saw us… and he said nothing. That night when you were shot by Frollo's soldiers. I knew it for a long time, the moment he told us to leave. I saw tears hiding in his eyes."

Phoebus thought about this, but his head was so fuzzy that night that he failed to notice what was happening around him. Also, Quasimodo's behavior that day. He certainly did remember that good kick to the face and also that rather rough slap to the back.

"Damn…"

"This will mend my sin I did against him, Phoebus. He's a part of our family…."

"I know. I'll never know how to thank him properly, myself. I assure you, don't worry."

Esmeralda clenched her jaw and shut her eyes tight and her whole body went as rigid as scraping stone.

"I just know this isn't going to end well…"

The woman was able to eat just a little, if that was some relief to the gypsies. To Clopin, it was not. One way or another, word had to get through to that cathedral.

* * *

The tough day for the boys was well earned thanks to Quasimodo's grace when the North bell tower was cleaned and organized. Word was too quick for his liking sometimes because, according to the Blind, someone had claimed Sanctuary for whatever reason. Of course, the laws of this city were still cast iron and true, despite the chaos that was brought through its gates. What truly confused him was the fact that this man wished to have audience with him. It was rare that someone would want to speak with him, but since the Seige, things truly changed to the point that he should not question it. As much as that was true, Quasimodo was not accustomed to strangers being so close to his family. Even though, by eye, this man was, without a doubt, not strong to begin with. So he was not sure of what to think, really. Yet, he trusted Agatha that she found the visitor odd and very questionable. The Archdeacon Pontius was in no good health to leave the warmth of the library, so it was left up to him to see who this really was. Possibly a drunk fresh from the taverns who did something regretful before the guard. The festivities were nothing but trouble, usually. Ushering the two lads to go and wash up after their chores, Quasimodo watched from the arch as they ran across the silent nave. He watched them, but his heart and mind were very far away, once again. One thought remained first and foremost, which was that he had to protect his children.

Trust seemed to be a dream.

Even though his name was legend, the world was still just as cruel and just as dangerous. In a way, his prayers for Rose were granted and made true. She was where no one would ever touch her again. God's grace was over these orphan's heads, even now. So, who was this man who expressed such interest? As much as he despised the thought of his former caretaker, he had an inkling that this could be someone Claude knew. Yet, at the thought, he was beginning to feel very bitter. He could not allow that to show.

The bumbling lanky man witnessed Bonny and William retreating to a specific door, who then shut it. It did not grant him a chance to give them a proper greeting, so he shrugged it off politely. When he turned, however, his icy eyes caught a glimpse of someone across the way, passed the baptistry.

"Oh, my… mother of— Greetings there, stranger!" he nervously tried to cover up his repulse.

Quasimodo mainly blinked, thinking nothing of the fact that his mere shadow had startled the man.

"Do you wish to speak with me or are you going to join the rest of Paris, gawking at someone you don't know?" he spoke.

Hearing the bell ringer's voice for the first time, Pierre gathered his thoughts in order to say the right thing. Oddly, that voice was soft and kind, yet there was something off about the shadow.

"Please, I ask for your forgiveness! Do not worry over a… bumbling fool like I. The kindly blind woman had spoken of you. I only wished to speak with you… I have been trying to come here to do so, for quite some time. This city is as jumpy as a rabbit."

"There is good reason why…." Quasimodo replied, casually stepping further into the window's light.

"I know of such reasons, g-good sir."

"Do you…? If you worked so hard to come in here, what can a bell ringer do for you?"

"I was once a student here, in this grand cathedral… Very long ago. One man showed me the way of the written word… Although he rarely condoned my written words."

Quasimodo's brow was flexed as he nodded at what was spoken. Deep down, he knew who he was talking about. Pain wanted to surge through him and show through his eyes, but he fought it, silently.

"You may call me Pierre Gringoire! At your service, sir Quasimodo. The voice of Paris, may I add?"

Quasimodo only shook his head and painfully smiled.

"Flattery? I don't see much of that. No less, in my direction."

"I am serious…. I did anger the guard. As much as I wished to meet you, face to face. I need your help." the lanky man seemed to grow solemn.

Quasimodo furrowed, deeply.

"… what did you do?"


	10. Pierre's Endeavor

There was a much deeper hole Pierre had dug for himself. There was more that Quasimodo had to know if the whole city was in a panic. Agatha was not so agreeable to allow him to join in their evening meal. There was no telling if either of them were to just trust the lanky man, right away. Especially not when the children were about and prone to pry. Quasimodo's kindness was something left hardly questioned when it happened. It was obvious to them that he wasn't all that willing but he personally knew something was awry during these last couple of weeks. The day was ending although and any hope of leaving those doors were gone.

As a new guest who now sat across from the blind woman he bumped into earlier that day as she stirred a wooden ladle into the small steaming hot cauldron. The cloister happened to be well organized, even for this odd family of people. There were four young adults, perhaps older than thirteen years of age, as the rest were very young. Two little girls and two young boys… so there had to be eight extra mouths to feed in total. Besides the blind woman, there was another who had a flush of deep ginger hair that matched so closely to the legendery hunchback's. Quasimodo was on his way back from the bell towers at needing to ring once for the vespers.

Poor Pierre had to answer slightly obscure questions about the earlier situations that day and he had little choice. Bonny, the dark haired lad was first, then there was William, who wanted to know a lot of things. Agatha was enjoying this very much.

"The guards were so mad today!" Bonny laughed. "What did you do?"

"I don't think that is up to me to answer that right away —"

"Did you steal something?" William prodded.

"Boys!" Adalyn had to press herself into the conversation. "He is not a prisoner, he is a hapless citizen. And he is going to share an evening meal with us. Now ease back." she gently pressed them away from the flustered young man.

"Many thanks, dear lady. Many, many thanks…" Pierre smiled at her.

She shared him a slightly questioning look before she began to serve them all bowls of stew.

"Don't you get used to that, sir. If he shows approval, then you can thank me however you wish."

Oh, how he knew that well. He had to get through to Quasimodo first. It wasn't long before the cloister door was opened and it revealed to be the weary bell ringer. Pierre's stomach began to churn the moment he saw a suspecting glance from those gentle eyes. Pierre saw the gingers exchange looks and the children were ushered to another spare room to eat their meal. Now the moment when Quasimodo took a bowl and sat down across from him, Pierre had the strong desire to run. Holding onto his courage, he stayed.

Quasimodo rolled up a sleeve a little bit not minding Pierre catching a glimpse of the hidden bandage beneath. He noticed and shared a saddened smile.

"This … is why I wear my sleeves long now." he began. "… because I know these scars will never go away. Now that I've told you a truth, you need to give me a truth. You can say that it's a little game we play."

"Sir, Quasimodo… I meant no ill against you. Perish the thought!"

"… so tell me why you are here. What have you done that vexed Paris this much?"

The lanky blonde had to look around, seeing that the blind was staring off at their general direction. It was obvious that she was into on every single word that was being uttered. She looked perturbed by how she was gnawing on her own lower lip.

"Agatha happens to be my ears and she said that you mentioned that you knew the former Minister of Justice …"

Quasimodo had to deeply lower his voice, on behalf of his family… because it was essential that a certain name was never mentioned inside these walls.

"Claude —"

Quasimodo rose a hand at him, with passive irritation behind his pressed lips.

"There is reason why we don't say it."

"… m-many apologies, sir. The least I want to do is to earn your contempt. I-I only need help."

"To help you get back in line to the gallows? No worries…"

Hearing the creeping anger in Quasimodo's voice, Pierre knew that he had to cut to the chase.

"Sir, I did make a huge mistake. Me being a former student of his ten years back ~ I'd reckon that you don't remember me. But …"

"I remember that he had many students during his time in Paris…" Quasimodo mentioned, darkly.

"Right. Thought so…" Pierre nervously chuckled as he set his own bowl of stew aside and crossed his legs even tighter. "Most importantly, I've been on a mission since the word of the seige reached the farmlands eastern. When I was thrown out with the sows, I decided to take it into my hands to be sure that the Minister wasn't murdered, but had fallen —"

"Who said he was murdered?" Quasimodo intruded, quite forcefully.

"The people hear things, even those who weren't there, they hear one word and it gets twisted ~ I-I'm not saying he was. B-but… but mouths speak and words spread along like a fungus."

He saw Quasimodo roll his eyes before he pinched the bridge of his squashed nose, trying to gather the rest of his patience. Agatha lifted her nose, very suspicious of where this conversation was headed.

"… so, when I crossed over into Paris, quite against my will, I might add … they were cleaning out the Minister's chambers."

Quasimodo's eyes sharpened at those words.

"I spotted the one carraige they were using to gather these things… and they were carting them off to a library to be sorted. As for the rest, they were going to be burned."

"What?" Quasimodo's voice reached a worried tone.

"… so one night when it was stopped I… let myself inside."

"You broke an entry into a noble's carriage, possibly his carriage, to steal… d-documents?"

"No no! Not steal, NOT stealing… Just to see if there was any written proof of what happened that morning."

Pierre wanted to curl up and hide, but that was the truth. Agatha started laughing, so hard that her head went back.

"That has to be the most pathetic, most hilarious confession ever to be given within the walls of this very church!"

"… agatha…" Quasimodo sighed with his face buried in both hands.

"Sure, sex scandals! Theft, treachery and mere stupidy is a given, but this will be remembered to best them all!" Agatha came smiling as she whacked Quasi on the shoulder with the back of her hand, playfully.

"Oh Lord, may You strike me down…" Pierre uttered, defeated and ashamed.

"Agatha, this is nothing to laugh at. Seriously. Really?" Quasimodo told her off, completely apalled.

"Pardon me just because we differ in sense of humor here. You know how ridiculous this is." she replied, now taking a seat with them.

"Ridiculous, certainly…."

"Ridiculous as in he went through all that trouble, anger the entire capital, when he could just come to you to get the right answers." Agatha explained her reason for hysterics.

"I needed more than just words, my lady. I needed written proof."

"Even though you have the perfect witness who was one of the victims on that one morn."

"Oh, Lord…" Quasimodo choked. There was no escape. "A-a-agatha… Just-just stop." he barked.

She nodded, knowing that he couldn't ever put this behind him, ever. She knew the entire story and her trust in him was as hard as stone. She started the fire, since he needed closure about this.

"Reason, my dear lady, I couldn't find him to begin with…. All due to our Spaniard friends, no doubt!" Pierre countered.

"You could have asked around, we were here for several weeks." she ended it right there.

"I needed written proof and I did happen to find something."

Quasimodo angrily brushed his hair back as he rose his eyes back to the blubbering man.

"You found what?"

"This is the main reason why I needed to claim Sanctuary, sir… You might not want to be near your family if you read it…"

"Seems like you want to be sentenced to death." Agatha scoffed.

She shut her mouth the moment she felt Quasimodo lightly elbow her in the rib. He sighed, heavily as he eyed this former student right in the eye.

"I really don't know what to think of you. I do not know whether to trust you or throw out of this room, right now. Quite honestly. But it seems that you know about him and me, in particular. I really do not want this. I really do not want this family in any kind of danger. What we say and whatever you have to show me has to stay in secrecy and stays inside this room. As soon as this is finished, you are gone. I don't want you here. … am I clear?"

"Um-" Pierre instantly picked up on the bell ringer's anger.

"Am I clear?"

"Yes! Yes, sir. I mean, I did say that I don't have any ill against you. Nor do I wish to make an enemy, I swear…"

"Then this is not a good impression… to bring up the past. You actually had the gall to bring this up."

"I am so sorry that I did. I had to. But you cannot run from the past, but you can move on from it."

"That was exactly what I was trying to do. Not sure if you knew, but we are trying to help these orphans, and I do not want them involved."

"You can throw me out, by all means… but this is important that you have this."

He dared to reach into a loose pocket in his thin grey jacket. With that, he pulled his thin hand out holding a shriveled parchment, neatly folded in an old piece of shawl. If Quasimodo was angry enough, he almost wanted to order not for it to be given to him… but gently, he took it from Pierre's shaken hand. As he did this, he was shrinking at the sharpening eyes of the trusted bell ringer as he slowly unfolded the parchment. The entire cloister fell into a terrible silence.

Quasimodo had his eyes glued to the parchment, and with each word he read the less color he had in his face. Pierre knew that the chill of the night waited for him just outside. After what seemed like an eternity, Quasimodo finally looked at the former student before folding the parchment again. He stood up, shaking with growing rage.

"I want you out of this cloister."

"Sir, I—I know-"

"I said out. I will not have my family drawn into this." Quasimodo forcefully motioned before he threw the paper across the stone floor. "You do not know what we all have gone through to get here. Now, I want you out. A-and you better not come back."

"Y-yes, sir… I-I was just trying to solve a mystery. I h-had a feeling I would be making an enemy."

"You sure have. Now, I am sure the monks would provide for you, but you have no place near my family. I've had enough…"

Agatha was not all right either when she began to hear her dear friend's voice fall apart at the seams. As their guest fled in a flurry, as she could hear, she groped for the parchment he threw.

"Quasi…"

"Agatha, what have you done?" he finally turned his voice to her. "You know it! You know it…. You know we don't speak about it."

"I-I know, Quasi… I am sorry —"

"Why did you bring him here?" she heard his tone leak with hurt and shock.

The parchment, in question, which was now held in the blind's hands, was a letter salvaged written by Claude Frollo's hand, specifically. A piece of a neglected journal among notes and other personals. Due to time and weathering, the only main points Quasimodo saw were confessions of the murder of an innocent gypsy woman and the near drowning of her physically destroyed child.


	11. Molten Pallor

**This chapter is a little short since it's a transition to what I have next. You can say this is the end of the first act.**

* * *

The evening inside the cathedral was as spoiled as old cream, all thanks to that lanky soul who dared go forward with such risk. In the hours of the night, when the orphans were deep asleep, Adalyn tried to comfort her brother. There was a different air about the cathedral though, something that bothered Agatha. It was never her will to anger him, of all people in the world. It was the fact that there was no avoidance. That name that the children were barred from was a name that was torturing their caretaker, silently… like arsenic settling to the bottom of a goblet, waiting for that fateful gulp. It deeply frightened her to know that he had all that still welling up all this time, possibly before she had ever met him. It was usual that she was the one to start arguments, and how did she start one up tonight.

As the bowls were being washed by the fire, Quasimodo was in the process of drying them as Agatha came back in. He had taken that parchment from her, now tucked into his belt, tossed aside like most memories. Agatha had her head hung low as she bit her lip, nervously. Quasimodo was dwelling in guilt as well. He sighed as he placed the last dish down. Knowing that she was directly behind him, he wiped his rough hands dry. She witnessed him roughly sigh in terrible dread which seemed to leak right into her heart.

"You are correct, sir, this is my doing." she gruffly spoke.

He pinched the skin of his forehead as if in pain before speaking again.

"What… made you believe this was a wise idea?"

"Perhaps I thought it was the only way to get you to open up, you stubborn ox."

"Well, is that so? Then you've made this ox even more stubborn." he shot back at her, not liking her tone.

With that, he tore the parchment out again.

"Do you know why I don't talk about it? For certain, you know I've never told anyone. Not even you. You listen to Paris, you hear the gossip and the spitting ev'ry day. You know already how despised this man was."

"I do know." Agatha replied, keeping her voice gentle. "…yet you keep everything so shut in. I can tell that it's eating you up from the inside, like a termite eating an old bench. Think of the children… They can smell it off you."

"I don't mean to be that way. I am trying to… t-to do what I can for them. What happened to me does not apply to them. Above all, I don't want them to know. S-so no."

Feeling emotional on this night, Quasimodo could feel that past affliction of a stammer leak back into his voice. As he fought it away, he had to get up and pace. It rendered the blind woman to try and follow him.

"What this Pierre did, I… I don't understand it."

"He claims he was a student of his."

"Do you believe he angered the entire city just for proof? While Pheobus and Esmeralda are locked out due to more prejudice?"

"Who—who knows, Quasimodo. Perhaps you should speak to him again. He seemed quite jumpy himself, as a matter of fact."

"Speak to him…" he scoffed.

"He might be on to something! Besides, you know the former Minister more than the entire city. Do you?"

That small inquiry made him turn to her, basically appalled once more. Yet, he was more deep in thought than he was angry, this time around. The conversation had to be dropped when his elder sister had stepped through the door in a sort of a hurried fashion. She saw the looks in their eyes, despite Agatha's being so hazed, and proceeded to swallow a dry lump that tortured her throat.

"Quasimodo…. What is it?"

It was of no use to not tell this healing family. The Hunchback could barely handle seeing his newly found sister in any more grief. He softened the heat in his eyes when he finally tore his gaze off of Agatha to gaze into hers.

"How are the children…?" his voice softly rang this time compared to how sharp it was with the blind.

"They are all asleep for now, brother. Yet I could not help but overhear."

"I guess my time of talking is done now, I'd wager."

"Good wager…" she heard Quasimodo passive aggressively say before she began to grope her way out with her guide.

That left Adalyn partially stupefied but soon enough, both brother and sister were alone in this one space in the cloister. Motherly, she worriedly began to inspect her brother's bandages again. Sadly, he smiled at her.

"Please, Addy… It's fine." he told her and she lightly sighed out of mere frustration.

"Sorry." she apologized as she fiddled with her own hair. "It's just…"

Quasimodo felt his eyes begging to well up when he was still able to see all that pain still fresh in her eyes. He shook his head.

"Just… just sit with me. I-I need to speak with you." he softly suggested, easing his calloused hand over hers.

Taking her hand and making sure all was quiet, he had to quiet his voice. Together, now it was them sitting before the fire. Adalyn bit her bottom lip before she eagerly looked up at his eyes.

"What has Agatha done this time? Besides taunting a guard or two." she lightly smiled, to see if it would soften the mood.

He rubbed his sore shoulder as he thought of what to say to her. "A lot has happened to today, in fact." he forced a small smile. "I cannot say it is her fault though."

"That man… who's sleeping on one of the pews…"

"You seem to have witnessed everything." he solemnly looked to her. "He confessed to pillaging confidential documents as they were being cleaned out of the Palace of Justice, looking for proof he said. If the cathedral siege was as true as he had heard it."

"Confidential?"

"Frollo's documents. A-and his journals, as far as I know." Quasimodo finished before he held the folded piece he was given. "… and he brought me this. Specifically." he tensely sighed before showing it to her.

Adalyn was able to read but a few words in truth and he respectfully knew of it. He ushered her to come closer to him as he squinted at the weather writing in cursive, which struck him as uncanny for some reason. All he learned was through this specific writing style, when he learned to read and write on his own. He would speak in Latin and he knew every Psalm. That alphabet he always was expected to recite on cue. He shook himself from the memory and got to the point, by reading the lowest passage.

"_As it was informed, the wench was mother to this obscene hell spawn._" Quasimodo read, quite gruffly as he was trying to keep himself composed. His hand shook slight, but Addy stroked it. He continued.

"_If Pontius had not interfered, I would have done away with the babe, ridding this world of another devil. The wench killed herself by foolishly pulling on what I claimed was mine and I saw her life as a waste of our precious blessed air. So I kicked her away. Not only a moment before, the bundle was, what I thought, stolen goods. That heinous cry and that molten pallor twisted into a crimson fray, I felt pity enough to put it out of its misery._"

Having read it and it was now over with, he set it down with a tense lock in his jaw, much to his sister's dismay. The rest of the handwriting was so weathered and smudged to the point that it was all incoherent.

"He was… writing about you…" Adalyn spoke, agape.

"I am the only one with the… _molten pallor_, in his words…" Quasimodo sourly but almost tearfully said. "Yet… since I met you and E-Ev… Everything became so different. I became hopeful again. He had no way of knowing. Just like me. Even back then, he was so full of hate, th-that I never understood. I can taste it so strongly in those words. Even now, it… confounds me."

"Quasimodo. This doesn't define you… This was just one man's thought written down." she tried to turn this around somehow although she believed it would be a lost cause to begin with.

"I know it doesn't, but… I still have so many questions…" he sadly could not tear his eyes away from the piece.

"Why wouldn't you have them…? I still ask why Evrard never told me that you survived that night and that still hurts…" the poor woman explained. "Listen, it has been quite a day. I suggest you get some rest. Perhaps you and Agatha can mend things in the morning."

"If only that were possible…" he typically smiled, awkwardly. "She did not anger me. I should speak to him, when dawn approaches."

Adalyn gave a gentle hand and soothed it over his sore shoulder, taking notice that his eyes were drooped. "Take care of yourself first… Did you eat supper?"

"Only a little." he turned modest.

"Well be sure to eat well in the morning. Or I'll start whipping you." she joked**.**


End file.
